The Longest Prank
by marauderjunkie
Summary: Hermione Granger knew that power scared people. So she decided to suppress the majority of her magic. When she is tortured, the rest of her magic is set free, helping to defeat Voldemort, but sending her back through time in the process. Now she must grapple with the failures of the future as she tries to solve the problems of the past. TimeTravel!AU, BAMF!Hermione, MaraudersEra
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, everyone!**

 **This is my first fanfiction. I wrote this piece because I hadn't come across anything quite like it, and if you can't find it, make it yourself!**

 **Obviously, I do not own anything affiliated with Harry Potter. This piece is purely for my own enjoyment, and hopefully, the enjoyment of other die-hard Potterheads like myself!**

* * *

Even after joining the wizarding world, Hermione Granger felt like an outsider. She was ridiculed for her intellect, her looks, and her blood status. Even surrounded by her peers at Hogwarts, she decided to suppress her magical abilities. _I would never have friends if I was considered threatening_ , she told herself.

Of course, it took a lot of energy and concentration to preserve the carefully fortified walls surrounding the majority of her power. As a result, Hermione maintained a level of vigilance that would have made Mad-Eye Moody proud.

She had only slipped a few times in her six-year tenure at Hogwarts, but she had been lucky; no one had ever been seriously injured. Sure, she had almost turned Snape into a very greasy human torch at their very first Quidditch game before regaining control, and yes, she blew apart Flitwick's office from atop a Hippogriff when helping Sirius escape (she had meant to simply give the window a good magical shove). Even these minor lapses had her terrified she would be found out; a feeling that only intensified over time.

By the time she reached her magical maturity at seventeen, she had perfected her innocent façade. She was simply the bookish best friend of Harry Potter, and not of any real concern.

The year of horcrux hunting had been rough. She had bound, gagged, and stuffed down the full scope of her magical abilities so thoroughly that anything short of a complete loss of her faculties would not make a dent in her defenses.

Hermione hadn't planned on the torture.

 _She hadn't planned on the sensation of every nerve ending on her body turning white-hot, hadn't anticipated the feeling of her skin burning itself on her molten bones from the inside out, hadn't realized what it would taste like when she bit through her own tongue in a futile attempt to quell the screams ripping through her throat._

"I swear we haven't taken anything! We didn't! No!"

"Lying, filthy mudblood! CRUCIO!"

 _Round after merciless round of the Cruciatus Curse reduced Hermione to a quaking, shuttering mess on the floor of the manor, her body broken and incapable of any function beyond the occasional whisper of oxygen in her lungs and the pitiful heartbeat in her chest._

 _The worst, however, was the cursed blade Bellatrix produced from deep in her robes._

 _Its twisted blade of obsidian seemed to reflect the crazed look in the eyes of Voldemort's lieutenant, the curve of the handle mirroring the sneer of triumph that contorted Bellatrix's colorless lips._

 _Hermione had assumed she was meant to be stabbed to death with an instrument as cruel as the one between the fingers of the Dark witch._

Bellatrix likes to play with her food before she eats it, _a voice in the back of her mind recalled,_ And playtime isn't over yet.

 _The same time as comprehension dawned in a small corner of Hermione's brain, Bellatrix pounced, pinning Hermione to the cold and unyielding marble, the toe of a boot digging into her wrist jarring Hermione out of her pain-induced stupor._

 _The blade was there for effect, the curse was for the real pain._

 _Every cell in Hermione's body cried out as the magical current within the dagger penetrated the pale skin of her left forearm like ink for a tattoo._

 _But this would not result in the image of a colorful butterfly, rather a permanent brand screaming the most hateful word Bellatrix had in her lexicon-_ MUDBLOOD _._

OUTCAST.

UNWORTHY.

SULLIED.

FILTHY.

 _It stood for the bigotry and hatred in a wizarding world that would never accept her, a community in which Hermione would always be second-class, undeserving, and unfit to practice magic._

 _As her ribs protested the weight of her torturer, she wanted to scream, but no sound would come out. Each swipe of the dagger was pure agony, and the pain blocked out every other sense. In that moment, there was nothing but the tearing of her flesh, and the scorching sparks of the curse running through her veins._

 _Bellatrix released her, but the blinding, mind-numbing shocks kept coming, and all she could do was lie motionless upon the floor, staring unseeingly at the chandelier above._

 _A small corner of Hermione's mind registered spellfire, and she felt rigid hands seize her shoulders and grasp her hair painfully, forcing her head back, but it was all overshadowed by the return of the blade to the skin below her jaw, pressing into her pounding pulse point as the curse once again imbued her skin with extreme pain._

 _She saw the floor come up to meet her as Bellatrix threw her forward, and sensed the gentle hold of someone pulling her into their arms, but the stress had become too much, and black clouded the edges of her vision as she slipped into unconsciousness._

Malfoy Manor, while incredibly traumatic, had given her a new lease on life. After all, if she hadn't buried her true magical power, she could have prevented the situation altogether. She wouldn't flinch any time someone touched her, wouldn't cringe any time a wand was raised, wouldn't feel immensely guilty for having caused the death of Dobby in her rescue.

But now, she didn't really care about being found out, about being abandoned by her friends if she was seen as threatening. Hermione Granger didn't care if her limitless power, probably rivaling (if not surpassing) Dumbledore himself, sent people running for the hills.

She didn't care if her friends were scared of her, as long as they were safe.

Deep down, she knew Ron and Harry would love her anyway, would die for her, as she would die for them, but even when she displayed her full power, they didn't seem to realize the vast difference.

Did they seriously think the average witch could cast a Catching Charm ( _Arresto Momentum_ ), wandlessly, while plummeting from an immense height, and manage to cover no less than three other people?

Did they actually believe you could just fly around Fiendfyre and remain unscathed?

How did they rectify the fact that the only casualties on the side of the Light during the final battle had happened when she was too far away to prevent them?

Could they really see Ginny, Luna, and Hermione winning a fight against Bellatrix, or Molly Weasley was capable of murder?

Is it even possible that Harry, a boy not even eighteen with only sporadic magical education, could actually duel Voldemort, coming away with not so much as a scratch?

Boys are idiots.

And the rest of them are zealots of that damn Prophecy.

The entire Battle, Hermione made only two mistakes: thinking a few members of the Order could hold their own without her help, and allowing herself to be distracted by Harry's resurrection.

For when she assumed Lupin would keep his wits about him, that Tonks wouldn't enter the fray after giving birth, that Fred would remain straight-faced in the middle of a life/death situation, that was when she lost people.

And when Harry revealed himself to the crowd in the Great Hall, that was when she lost herself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, again, readers!**

 **I apologize for the length of the chapters, I hope to make them longer in the future. This story is still in the exposition phase, and so there's quite a bit of setting the scene. I wish we could jump right in, but then it wouldn't make sense to anyone but me.**

 **Happy reading!**

 **-Addie**

* * *

Harry James Potter.

He could be unbelievably stubborn, he had a knack for opening his mouth at just the wrong time, and he had a biting temper.

He was unflinchingly loyal, stupidly courageous, and lovably sensitive.

He was Hermione Granger's best friend.

She would kill for him, die for him, as he would for her.

And die for him, she did.

It wasn't her fault that her time-turner was hit with a Blasting Curse the moment he came out from underneath that sodding invisibility cloak.

She was a powerful witch; perhaps _the_ powerful witch. She was quick as a whip, and as sharp as a tack, and had a frankly ridiculous amount of power to boot.

Hermione had been shielding everyone on their side of the fight from harm; she thought her best friend was dead, but no one else she loved was going to die tonight.

She felt the Blasting Curse hit her square in the chest, but barely stumbled. Her personal defenses were too powerful for anything to knock her off her feet at this point. She had, however, neglected to shield anything beyond her actual body.

 _Stupid,_ Hermione thought, as she felt the shards of glass pierce the skin of her chest, _utterly and completely stupid. The world's only remaining time-turner, and you forget to shield it?!_

On the periphery of her consciousness, she could feel an icy tingle spreading from the place the time-turner exploded, similar to Menthol in a cough drop, but decided to ignore it and investigate later.

"...but I meant to," she heard Harry reply smugly to the Dark Lord, "and that's all that matters."

 _Honestly, can no one tell I'm the one shielding all these people?!_ Hermione practically shrieked internally, _seriously, it's beginning to grate on me how much you get credit for, Harry._

The standoff was beginning to come to a head, she noticed, observing Harry and Voldemort circle each other. But the tingle had intensified to a pins-and-needles sensation, like electricity under her skin. Not exactly painful, but a bit harder to ignore.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Hermione watched in triumph as the wall she had erected around Harry deflected Voldemort's Killing Curse, the jet of green light illuminating the reptilian features of the Dark Lord, before hitting him, sending him sprawling backwards with a final _thud_.

Harry looked as shocked as the rest of the room, but, ever the seeker, caught the Elder Wand effortlessly.

Shouts of victory erupted out of the silence in the Hall, as the spectators realized the finality of the triumph before them, but Hermione didn't notice. She only had eyes for the Boy Who Lived.

She closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around her neck in one of her trademarked fierce hugs. She could feel her best friend bury his face in her hair, his nose against her neck as they embraced. She felt Harry's shoulders sag as the weight of the world lifted from them, and Hermione held Harry gently but firmly as they both cried, pent-up sobs escaping between them as the crowd celebrated around them.

"I love you, Hermione," Harry whispered, for her ears only, "so much. You're my best friend. I know you saved me."

Hermione pulled back only a fraction as they held each other, just far enough for their eyes to meet, and she could see the understanding in his eyes behind his dirt covered glasses. He knew she had been protecting him all along.

"Oh, Harry, I'm sorry I didn't say anyth-" she began, only to be cut off.

"Do you really think I couldn't tell you were holding back? I know you, 'Mione. I could see it," she felt his shoulders move as he shrugged, "I just figured you weren't ready to tell me."

Hermione couldn't contain her shock at this point. _Of course, he knew,_ a voice in the back of her mind chided, _he knows you better than anyone. For Godric's sake, you lived in a bloody tent together for nine months!_

"Harry, I love you, too. I just couldn't bear it if I scared you!" she sobbed, and carded her hands through his hair, picking out pine needles as she went.

"You're bloody Hermione Granger! Merlin, I could never be afraid of you- you brought a library along for your life as a fugitive!" he laughed, the most carefree laugh she had ever heard from him, and she leaned into his warm chest, allowing him to rub soothing circles between her shoulder blades. She inhaled the scent that was so distinctly Harry, comforting and dependable and safe.

Suddenly, he froze. She looked up, searching his face, the gears in her head moving at top speed, all her internal alarm bells going off.

"Hermione-?" his voice barely above a whisper.

"Harry? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Hermione was panicking now, her eyes frantically meeting his, "Talk to me!"

"Erm... Hermione, you're glowing?" she tracked his gaze down to her chest, finally looking at the place where her time-turner exploded on her sternum. The shards of glass stuck to her chest like crystals, held there by the open scratches they had made, and the blood blooming up from underneath. The chain of the time-turner was gone and the gold of the pendant had turned molten and fused itself to her shirt, had burned the hollow of her throat.

But that wasn't the worrisome part. The sand from the hourglass peppered her chest, and was beginning to glow blue, icy-hot, as if they were made of liquid nitrogen. _Strange_ , she thought, _just like my bluebell flames_ , as she studied the constellation-esque pattern emerging wherever the sand touched her skin.

Harry was holding her at arm's length now by the shoulders, the blue light sparkling in the lenses of his glasses, as his brows knit together in concern.

"The time-turner? Hermione, what's happening?" she heard him shout, the panic in his voice matching the panic in her heart, but she could barely respond as the icy tingle she had felt earlier seemed to spread outward from where the time-turner had rested near her collarbone.

"Harry!" she gasped, frantic now, as the sensation intensified, "Harry, it hurts!"

Her knees buckled under her as she spoke, her vision filling with spots the same shade of blue as the sand, and he caught her, lowering them both to the floor, as she shivered uncontrollably.

"Hermione, it's okay, I have you," Harry cried, his eyes locked on hers, "I'm here!"

Her ears were ringing louder and louder as her vision became completely obscured, the blue light blocking anything else out.

"Harry?!" she shouted desperately, as she clung to him, fully seizing now, but she never heard his response.

She never heard anything else. All she could see is blinding blue light, all she could hear was incessant ringing, and she knew only the sensation of being tugged backward by the waist into icy water, cold filling her lungs and wrapping every inch of her body in unyielding steel.

She gasped desperately for air, knowing there was none to be found, and let the cold envelop her entirely.

Her next physical sensation was falling, and crashing into something painfully solid.


	3. Chapter 3

**To address some concerns that may or may not exist (I may be overthinking this):**

 **I always wanted the character of Hermione to be stronger. She's a Gryffindor, and therefore brave, reckless, etc. but at the same time smart as a whip. I thought it would be nice to have her make her own decisions, instead of following Harry's lead, to have her defend herself easily, and be fearless in the face of danger. In the future, I would love for her personality to be more calculating (wary from all the things she's gone through), and for her to be more carefree in general. There will be minimal lip-biting-staring-off-into-the-distance-in-indecision in my story.**

 **-Addie**

* * *

She groaned as her hip made contact with hardwood flooring.

Hermione blinked, looking around, as the flashing blue light retreated from her vision. She shook her head, only to find her ears were no longer ringing. Cringing and holding her hip, she sat up, only to find herself in a small sitting room, complete with cozy furniture and warm colors. _The Gryffindor Common Room?_ she considered briefly, noticing the red and gold accents around her. She was just struggling to her feet when she heard a man call out in fear from the steps behind her.

"Run! Take the baby and run!" he screamed desperately, and from above, she heard a woman scream back and a baby crying.

She lept to her feet, whipping out her wand in a practiced movement, her magic flowing unchecked around her, and heard the creak of a gate opening beyond the front door. A tall man ran past her to the couch, not noticing her, and scrambled around, looking for his wand.

"GODRIC! Where is it?!" he shouted frantically, searching the couch cushions, but froze when the doorbell rang.

Hermione, still behind him, in the corner of the room where she fell, crouched into a defensive position, all her energy focused on the door, ready to strike.

The door was blasted off its hinges with a deafening bang, and through the rubble, stepped Voldemort.

Oddly, he was different than he had been moments ago in the Great Hall. She saw he had greying dark hair and pale skin when his hood dropped from his head, but he was decidedly _human_.

If it hadn't been for the glowing red eyes, with the pupils of a snake, she wouldn't have known who he was.

The eyes fell upon the man standing in front of him first, still wandless, but his posture matching Hermione's. His lips curled into a cruel sneer, but then his eyes flicked to Hermione. She was a mess, small and emaciated, covered in dirt and blood, but the ends of each riotous curl sparked as her magic swirled around her like a whirlpool, faster and faster with each second.

Before she could stop herself, she cried, "If you want to kill them, you'll have to kill me first!" surprising herself as her voice didn't shake and sounded powerful, even to her own ears.

The man standing between Hermione and the Dark Lord whirled halfway around, not daring to turn his back to Voldemort, but startled by her unannounced presence.

 _Harry?_ she thought, as he turned to look at her, and she saw his familiar tangled hair and glasses, but she snapped out of it as soon as their eyes locked, as his were hazel and not the comforting green of her best friend.

He was also taller and larger than her slight Harry, and seemed older. Hermione held his gaze for only a moment before flicking her eyes to the mantle, where his wand rested, and back to the red of her attacker.

"And who are you to challenge the Dark Lord?" Voldemort intoned, in a high-pitched voice that would have been menacing if it hadn't been so unexpected and slightly laced with uncertainty.

The man between them dove to the ground with surprising agility and rolled to the hearth as Voldemort shot off the first curse.

Hermione blocked it without even thinking, brushing it aside like the inconvenience it truly was at her level of power. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man had found his wand, and was back in a defensive position.

"I'm only a mudblood," she replied acidly, and watched as Voldemort's eyes narrowed in calculation, "but you seem _scared_ , Riddle." His nostrils flared, and fury etched itself on his face.

"You dare?" he snarled, shooting a familiar jet of green light her way.

She was toying with him, and he with her, but she was expecting it. As she sent his curse back at him, she wordlessly and invisibly warded the stairs and wrapped her thickest shield around the other man, the same one she had just used to defend Harry in the Great Hall. She sensed the anti-portkey wards going up, and the anti-apparition wards, but dismantled them as quickly as they were built. In answer, she heard a telltale pop, meaning the house's other occupants had gotten away.

The man, in a truly Harry-esque move, put himself between her and Voldemort, ready to protect the intruder in his home. She smiled, thinking of her friend, and he suddenly found himself in the garden.

"Oh, don't be like that, Tom," she drawled, trying to look bored, "what's the rush?"

Voldemort growled from the other side of the room, dropped into a duelling position, and prepared to fight. In reply, she grinned as widely as she could, showing all her teeth in a near-feral display.

"Crucio!" he spat, looking truly murderous.

"Protego!" she shouted, though unnecessary, since her magic was still swirling.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, viciously twisting his wand.

"Piertotem!" she responded, conjuring a block of granite to absorb the curse.

Apparently uninterested in verbal spells, Voldemort raised his wand above his head, and swept it down in a slashing motion, a whip made out of fire crossing the length of the room.

She intercepted it easily with a quick slab of ice, putting out the flame in a hiss of steam.

Fighting back now, she shot off the first curse she could think of, while her magic reached out and grabbed the couch, making Voldemort slash it to pieces midair, without putting up a Shield Charm. A deep slash opened on the center of his forehead in a jagged line, not unlike her best friend's scar.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shrieked again, this time with an undertone of pain, as blood ran down his face.

"Sectumsempra!" she bellowed, putting her weight behind it. She knew the Killing Curse would never get past the tornado of raw magical energy that swirled around her.

The Dark Slicing Curse shattered Voldemort's shields as though they were made of eggshell, and hit home, opening a fatal wound at his throat from which he would never recover. Before the Dark Lord could so much as react, she cast again.

"Fiendfyre!" she said, her voice nearly a whisper, a column of flame shooting out toward her opponent in the shape of a Griffin. Fiendfyre was some of the darkest magic possible, capable of destroying anything and everything in its path should the caster not be powerful enough to control it.

Fortunately, Hermione had power in spades.

The Griffin's jaws opened wide, and seemed to swallow Voldemort whole. The piece of soul still tethered to his body would not be free to roam the earth; it would cease to exist.

After only a moment, she pulled the Griffin back with a tug of her wand, and it shrunk, before turning to bow before her, a signal that it was at her service, and disappeared.

The other man stood in the doorway of the house, staring in bewilderment at the charred pile of ash that had once been He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and then looked up at Hermione, their eyes locking for a second time.

He opened his mouth to speak, but at that very moment, the howling vortex surrounding Hermione slowed to a halt and the floor rushed up to meet her. She barely registered the man catching her before she hit the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, my amazing readers!**

 **I thought I would take a second to address the previous chapter, as it was a bit of a whirlwind (if you were paying attention you understand what I did there). In the book, James left his wand on the couch, but for this I decided to put it on the mantle. Also, to maintain Hermione's mysterious entrance, I had Lily already upstairs and James shouting up at her when Hermione arrives. I hope you don't mind I took some liberties with the extent of Hermione's power, and also that she used Dark magic. The canon Hermione would probably be appalled, but then again, this is not canon Hermione.**

 **I kept the exchange with Voldepants short, in part because I have trouble imagining him as a gifted conversationalist, but also, I didn't really think they would stop to chat.**

 **Enjoy James' perspective of the showdown!**

 **-Addie**

* * *

James Potter was sure he had died.

He ran down the stairs, scanning the room for his wand, scouring the couch for his only weapon, when the doorbell rang.

And then the door exploded.

All he could do was stand there as You-Know-Who practically swaggered over his doorstep, and brace himself for death, hoping that his murder would delay Voldemort by precious seconds he knew his wife and child desperately needed.

But then a voice sounded from behind him, confident and strong, "If you want to kill them, you'll have to kill me first!"

James turned to look at the source of the voice, and found a small teenage girl, covered in blood, glaring at the Dark Lord.

In any other circumstance, he would have looked at her and assumed she would be blown over by the lightest breeze. The girl looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks, and in between had been to hell and back. But James was barely thinking about that, his attention grabbed by the smell of ozone in the air, emanating from the raw energy swirling around her in a twisting stormcloud, stirring her hair and giving her defiant glare a warlike tinge.

Her eyes flicked to his from Voldemort, and he saw emotions flit across her face- Recognition? Disappointment?- but then her gaze turned pointed and her eyes widened minutely, flicking to the mantle and back to him, before returning to the Dark Lord in front of them both.

He turned back around to face the man in his doorway, and out of the corner of his eye saw his wand resting on the mantlepiece above the hearth. _She's helping me_ , he realized.

James didn't have time to dwell on his realization however, as Voldemort chose that moment to speak:

"And who are you to challenge the Dark Lord?" Voldemort said in a venomous tone, with a hint of something else. Caution?

You-Know-Who's wand slashed at the girl, and James saw his chance. He rolled, using every ounce of his Quidditch training, and jumped up at the hearth, grasping his wand firmly in his hand. He assumed a defensive stance just in time to see the girl change the course of the curse with only a slight jerk of her chin.

She spoke again, this time her voice oozing with hatred, "I'm only a mudblood," James flinched at the word, "but you seem scared, Riddle."

He looked at Voldemort once again, just in time to see him reply, and twist his wand in the pattern of the killing curse. She deflected it easily, sending the curse straight back at the caster, and as she did, he heard the faint pop that told him Lily had disapparated.

Relief washed over him, cooling the frenzy his mind had adopted up until that point, at the confirmation that his baby and his wife were safe from harm. With newfound vigor he threw himself in between the fragile-looking girl, and the Darkest wizard of all time-

-and found himself in the garden outside.

Now James was confused. He had meant to try and save the curly-haired girl, at the very least help her get away, but somehow she had prevented him from laying down his life. He still had his wand, and he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get his bearings, when more spellfire lit up the windows of his Godric's Hollow cottage.

He could hear the exchange of incantations- unforgivables, mostly -and he made it to the side of the house just in time to see Voldemort's forehead sliced almost precisely down the middle, in a zig-zag fashion.

Blood was spurting from the deep gash now, which only seemed to make the Dark Lord angrier. James took a few more steps toward the front door, only to duck reflexively as he saw his _living room couch_ , of all things, hurdle toward Voldemort at top speed.

Voldemort, of course, slashed the couch to pieces (a corner of James' mind remembered briefly that Sirius had bought them that couch, but he quickly shoved it away), and put up a shield, which the witch's curse broke through without even faltering, and time stood still.

For one silent moment, James did nothing but stare at the deep slice across the neck of You-Know-Who in disbelief, before taking cover again as a column of fire engulfed the girl's opponent.

As the flames died down, James could see as the flames died down that they had taken the shape of a Griffin, and were slowly dissipating with a flourish from the girl's wand.

He rounded the corner of the house, but stopped in the doorway as his eyes found the pile of smouldering ash and robes that used to be the most feared wizard in the world.

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from the floor and looked up at the girl, at the look of raw determination on her face. Her brown eyes found his, unfocused, as the whirl of magical energy around her came to a stop.

James' previous observations had been correct: the girl was swaying on the spot. Without another thought, he lept over the doorstep and around the pile of ash, and caught her as her eyes shut and she fell bodily to the floor.

It was disturbing how light she was. She wasn't very tall, maybe a little over five feet, but she couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet.

Her eyelids fluttered, and a sound of pain escaped her lips as her body went limp in his arms.

 _No big deal,_ he thought, _only me, a crazy powerful girl, and Voldy's ashes in my house. Nothing beyond what any old bloke would deal with normally. I'll just wait until someone comes along._


	5. Chapter 5

**Lovely Readers!**

 **I hope you enjoyed James' inner monologue as much as I enjoyed writing it. Here is where I let my imagination run wild. I simply cannot believe that the Potters had ZERO contingency plans or emergency procedures in the event of attack. SO. I took some liberties with this particular chapter.**

 **-Addie**

* * *

Lily was in Harry's nursery when she heard it.

"Lily! It's him! Run! Take the baby and run!" James cried from the stairs.

"JAMES?!" she shrieked, hearing the running footsteps of her husband, accompanied by a string of profanity only he was capable of producing.

Her protective instincts kicked into high gear. She grabbed a sobbing Harry from his crib, dressed in his Racing Broom footie pajamas, and took hold of the alphabet block (the letter P for Potter, P for Portkey), ready to flee.

Nothing happened.

 _Where's my bloody wand?!_ She thought desperately, then remembered it was still on her bed in the next room, _so, so, thick of me_ , she chastised herself, dropping the baby back into the crib, hurrying across the hall.

She had just tore into the room, wrapping her fingers around the familiar piece of wood, her only weapon, when the doorbell rang.

She froze, listening hard.

Then an explosion shook the house.

She ran to her son's side, grabbed him, ready to apparate, when she found she couldn't.

If apparating successfully was like being sucked through a straw, anti-apparition wards felt like the straw was too narrow to squeeze through.

She stumbled, growling in frustration, when she heard a voice ring out from below, neither her husband's, nor that of Voldemort.

"If you want to kill them, you'll have to kill me first!"

She paused for a moment. The voice sounded brave, but young and feminine. Lily's eyes lit upon their cat, Maisie, strolling into the room as if nothing was going on.

She grabbed the cat by the scruff of her neck, hefted her baby in her arms, gripped her wand, and turned on the spot.

This time it worked.

The sounds of spellfire cut off abruptly as she was compressed on all sides, clinging to her child and familiar. She materialized in the front hall of Longbottom Manor, as her emergency plan with James had suggested.

"ALICE?! FRANK?! I NEED HELP!" she shouted desperately, hoping beyond hope the two aurors were on-call that night and not lounging as she and James had been.

"Lily?" a shout came from deep within the Manor, and above, running footsteps and the slam of a door could be heard.

Alice rounded the corner into the front hallway, and took in the sight of the young ginger witch, her best friend, clinging to her cat and baby before her.

"FRANK! I SWEAR TO CIRCE GET DOWN HERE!" Alice bellowed toward the ceiling, hearing pounding as her husband came running.

"What happened?" Alice demanded, skidding to a halt in front of the trembling witch. Alice Longbottom was petite, with a round face and kind eyes, but her features were hard and unyielding now, clearly in full auror-mode.

Lily handed Harry to Alice, and dropped the cat, her voice shaking, "W-we were attacked," she began, her voice barely above a whisper, "Peter is the s-spy. He set Voldemort on us."

Alice gasped and her eyes widened with fear. The Longbottoms were also in hiding under a Fidelius Charm, and had the same level of protection as the Potters.

"I got a-away, but Jamie... oh, Godric, Jamie..." Alice was caught up now. As Lily's best friend, understanding could pass between the two without a sentence being completed. Dry sobs were heaving in Lily's chest, but she was too shocked to actually cry.

"Lily... it's going to be okay... We'll send Frank right now," Alice said decisively, "MERLIN, FRANK WHE-"

"I'm here!" came the response from the landing of the stairs, and a tall, frumpy-looking wizard appeared, wand tucked behind his ear. Frank was an incredible auror and a powerful duelist, but gave the impression of the absent-minded professor.

"Frank, Lily and James were attacked. You need to floo to their house for backup. James is still there," Alice explained, and Frank nodded swiftly and made to take off again.

"WAIT!" Lily shouted suddenly, remembering the voice she heard right before disapparating, "He's not alone. Someone... a woman I think, was down there, too."

"Bellatrix?" Frank gasped in shock, his brow creasing in concern. This wasn't looking good for James.

"No! She... I heard her say... She was there to help," Lily was barely forming coherent sentences now, and began to hyperventilate, "I don't know who it was... no one should have been able to get in! Our secret was shared."

Frank nodded in understanding, his eyes darkening in rage. The two families in hiding were active Order members, and they had been aware of the spy, but Frank and Alice were the only ones who knew of Peter's secret-keeper status.

"I'll go right now."

At these parting words, Lily visibly relaxed, her knees buckling in relief. Alone, James was no match for Voldemort, but with Frank, he stood a chance.

Just as Frank made to step into the emerald flames, a patronus in the shape of a stag came sailing through the window. It looked directly at Lily.

" _We are safe. Voldemort is dead. Waiting for Pads. The girl is injured,"_ James' voice intoned through the patronus' shimmering form, " _Stay where you are. We will come to you._ "

The stag vanished, and the three adults stared at the space it had occupied a second before, in disbelief.

"'Rons!" Harry squealed, and clapped his hands, oblivious to the pregnant pause.

Lily said automatically, "That's right Harry," her voice hollow but her eyes bright, "Prongs!"

* * *

 **Sorry this chapter is quite a bit shorter than the others. I want to go to a different perspective after this, so it seemed like the right time to break it off. I feel bad for the slight whiplash at the moment, but once everyone gathers, it will be much easier to make the chapters longer. Let me know what you think! I tried very hard to stay as true to the OG circumstances as possible.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again, my lovely readers!**

 **I've gotten such a great response so far, which is completely unexpected and absolutely incredible at the same time. I am so happy to share this with you as I write it.**

 **One gorgeous follower of this story suggested I stop Hermione from aging until she matches up with the time she left. (Or at least I think that's what they suggested, I have only taken high school Spanish.) I don't think I'm going to incorporate that into this particular story, as I can't weave a plausible explanation for that in at this stage, but it has got me thinking about other possible stories.**

 **Going forward, I will try to update this at least once a week, but I am hopeful that I will be able to post at least a few more chapters in the coming days. Alas, this is the last one I have pre-written.**

 **Once again, I am eternally grateful for your feedback and I look forward to the next chapter!**

 **-Addie**

 **disclaimer: as is true for the entirety of my work, I do not own anything related to or associated with the HP universe. I am simply an avid admirer.**

* * *

Sirius Black stepped out of the fireplace, and into the fire. Or, rather, the warzone.

The quaint little living room with comfy chairs and a plush couch, decorated to resemble the Gryffindor Common Room, was an absolute wreck. Spellfire scorch marks littered the walls, the couch was in pieces, the putrid smell of Dark magic thick in the air, and in the center knelt a familiar wizard with unruly black hair, faced away from the hearth.

"Bloody hell, what happened here?" Sirius chuckled as he strode over to his best friend, "did you cross Ginger again, Prongs? I think we all know how-"

Sirius stopped abruptly as his gaze fell upon the wide scorch mark bisecting the room, and the gaping hole where the front door used to be. He looked from one end of the room to the other, and he realized James was bent over someone, frantically muttering diagnostic charms.

"Prongs...? Who is that?" SIrius was standing a few paces from the person's- the _girl's_ \- head now, the color gone from his face, the mirth gone from his voice.

The girl was coated in a thick layer of grime, as though she had been camping for months on end, her tangled curls strewn around her as she lay on her back. She was covered in blood- maybe her's, but it was hard to tell, and her facial features were contorted in pain.

She looked to be a bit younger than the Marauders, though this could have been because she looked incredibly malnourished and gaunt. James continued to mutter under his breath, barely even sparing Sirius a glance, a thin film of a stasis charm washing over the girl to stabilize any injuries she had.

"Pads... We were attacked tonight," James began, bringing running his hand down his face in exertion, "by Voldemort."

All Sirius could do was stare, his icy-blue eyes meeting James' hazel. "What do you mean you were attacked? Voldemort can't find you here! That's what the Fidelius Ch-"

"Peter must have betrayed us. He's the spy."

Sirius growled in comprehension, fury flickering over his features. "That little... RAT! I'll kill him!" he barked, his vision going red.

"SIRIUS! Don't be stupid, mate. I need you to help me get her," James motioned to the strange, disheveled girl, "somewhere safe. Lily can heal her." James reached up and clasped SIrius' wrist like a vice, since his hands were curled into fists. The grip of his best friend seemed to bring him back from the edge, and his gaze landed on the girl's face once more.

"Who is she?" he asked, hesitant.

"She saved us, Pads," James rasped, his voice shaking, "she killed Voldemort."

Sirius looked from the imploring stare of his friend to the girl and back, "Her?"

James sighed, the adrenaline from the encounter leaving exhaustion in its absence, "I don't have time to explain this right now. Just help me take her to Frank and Alice's, yeah?"

Sirius nodded quickly, and moved to the girl's side. He crouched down, and slid one arm under her slight shoulders, the other under her knees. She was far too light.

"Right, Pads, let's go." James grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace, and disappeared in a whirl of emerald flame.

"Let's get you out of here, love, okay?" Sirius murmured to the unconscious girl in his arms, despite the fact that she couldn't hear him. She just seemed so small, so fragile, he was afraid she might shatter.

When he stepped out of the floo and into Longbottom Manor, he was greeted by no less than fourteen sets of eyes.

"Oi! I know I've a pretty face, but could someone please clear some room for her?" he snapped, spurring the group into action. Alice moved over to where Harry and Neville were sitting happily, making gurgling baby sounds and eating Cheerios. Lily swished her wand, clearing the clutter on the coffee table in the middle of the sitting room, Frank levitated an armchair to clear Sirius' path, and James summoned a bin of mediwitch supplies to rival Madam Pomfrey's stockroom.

Lily motioned for Sirius to lay the girl out on the table, and Sirius knew to do as directed. Lily Evans-Potter was not to be trifled with. She was the most fiercely protective witch he had ever known, with a wicked temper when crossed.

"Do you know what's wrong with her?" Sirius asked Lily, breaking the silence. He watched Lily's expression of intense concentration as she cast more complex diagnostic charms than either he or James were capable of. Her wand paused midair, and her frown deepened.

"She is suffering from residual effects of the Cruciatus Curse, there are cursed wounds on the arm and neck that need treating, as they can't be healed with magic, and she has shards of glass embedded in her chest," Lily paused, looking almost sad, "she's exhausted, and extremely malnourished."

James looked at his wife questioningly. "What's the reason she's unconscious, then, love?"

Lily sighed and looked up, making eye contact with each adult individually before continuing, "It seems that she was repressing her magic until very recently-"

Every adult in the room gasped. It was incredibly dangerous to bind your magical core. The further down you shoved your magic, the more likely it became it would lash out, driving the witch or wizard insane.

"-but because she didn't suppress it entirely, she just locked away the majority of it for a while, I don't believe she's turned Dark or insane." The collective sigh of relief in the room reached an almost comical volume.

"However, she would have to be either extremely powerful," James nodded at this, his eyes unfocused, thinking of the battle earlier that night, "or extremely traumatized. SInce she's not insane, I think we are looking at a deceptively powerful witch."

The group exchanged looks of concern, and Sirius cleared his throat. "But she's fainted because-?"

"Oh! Right," Lily blushed slightly. She had lost the original question in her analysis of the puzzle in front of her. "This is probably the first time she's ever used her full strength. Magic is like a rubber band, and I think she just stretched it too quickly and got carried away."

James nodded in understanding. "But it looks like she's been to hell and back again, and she's got so many injuries. Did you say she was tortured?"

Lily's eyes turned steely, and a swift jerk of her chin confirmed, "Yes. We need to treat her physical injuries in the short term, then treat her malnourishment and exhaustion over a longer period of time."

Seemingly satisfied with her assessment, Lily quickly waved her wand to vanish the girl's denim jacket and her jumper underneath.

Now, it was Lily's turn to gasp.

The other four adults looked up to her face, then followed her gaze to the girl's left forearm. In deep, infected-looking gashes, characteristic of cursed wounds, the word _MUDBLOOD_ was carved into her skin.

Lily's hand went to her mouth to stifle a sob that rose up unexpectedly, and they stared for a moment in silence. But as James watched her expression, he saw the Fiendfyre behind Lily's distinct emerald-colored eyes, saw the fury bubbling up from deep within his wife. Her shoulders tensed, then squared, and she drew herself up in determination, and began examining the rest of the girl's torso.

Shiny scars from cutting hexes and stray jinxes criss-crossed her entire body, as if she had been used for target practice. A long bluish mark ran up the center of her abdomen, with slight tendrils spreading over her sides like the veins on a leaf, clearly from a very nasty dark curse. Her ribs were easily catalogued under her skin, her hipbones seemed too sharp for her silhouette, and a smattering pale pink burn scars in crescent shapes the size of galleons marred her upper arms and shoulders.

None of that was the worst part.

In the center of her chest, razor-thin cuts dispersed outward from the hollow of her throat and down her sternum. Looking closer, small flecks of glass were visible among the angry, red lacerations. And just between her collarbones lay a perfectly circular burn made of molten gold.

They all stared at the girl in silence, until Lily drew a shaky breath.

"What the fuck happened to her?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone!**

 **I'm back once again with another chapter! I agonized over this one... I wanted to establish the traditional Marauders relationship in this chapter, but I felt the circumstances were still too acute to inject humor realistically. The thing I'm most excited about, however, are the incantations and wandwork. I know in the books, when the caster names an object to summon or something, they just say it in english, but I felt the delicacy of the healing required in this chapter would lend itself more to a latin interpretation. I also went more in-detail about the wandwork than JK normally does, mostly because I wanted to illustrate the complexity of the work being done.**

 **As always, I hope you enjoy, and I will catch you lovely readers at the next update!**

 **-Addie**

* * *

"Jamie... how are we going to help her?" Lily breathed, reaching for her husband kneeling next to her. They were young parents, only twenty-one, and in this moment they felt as helpless as the poor girl laying before them looked.

"I... I wish I knew, Lil," James shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind like an etch-a-sketch, "You know, the first thing she said when Voldemort came? She said-"

" _If you want to kill them, you'll have to kill me first_ ," Lily finished for him. She remembered the shout all too clearly. James nodded in response.

"That's why we have to save-" James' voice cut off as the girl stirred, her back arching off the coffee table, her face set in a grimace of pain. James and Lily made to stand move closer, to hover, but Sirius beat them to it.

"It's okay, love, you're safe," he whispered in her ear, his hand stroking her hair in a soothing gesture, "You're alright." They all held her breath as her chest heaved and a gasp escaped her lips, sounding halfway between a grimace and a sob.

Sirius kept smoothing her hair back, unfazed. He looked at her, studying her heart-shaped face, her light skin covered in a dusting of freckles, soot, and speckles of blood. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn't open.

"Can we heal her before she wakes up?" Sirius snapped his fingers in front of Lily's face, drawing the Potters' gaze away from her forearm. Lily shivered and looked up.

"Right, yeah." Lily flicked her wand, sending potions sailing toward her. She swished her wand in a delicate motion began pulling, like a tug-of-war, and incanted, " _Evanesco, speculo!"_ vanishing the glass shards from the girl's wounds. They began to bleed freely again, and she made a weaving, knitting motion, muttering, " _Sanitatem_ ," over each laceration.

Lily looked satisfied as the cuts began to close, but frowned at the gold melted into the nasty burn at the hollow of her patient's throat. " _Evanesco, aurum!_ " she said, at full volume, clearly struggling. The melted puddle of gold began to shift, but didn't vanish. The girl whimpered slightly, one tear slipping from beneath her eyelashes. "I don't think I can vanish it. We may have to just locally anesthetize and use a mild pushing hex."

Sirius didn't like the sound of that. If the simple attempt to vanish the gold, to get at the burn underneath made her whimper, how much pain would she be in if they tried to force it off her? The girl seemed to concur with his assessment, as her hand curled into a fist at her side.

"Don't worry, she shouldn't be able to feel it," Lily reassured Sirius, seeing his concern, "I'll numb the area so she can't feel anything happening." She leveled her wand, circling the girl's chest and drew outward, in the shape of a sun. " _Finite crucio_ ," she whispered, and the girl visibly relaxed, and let out a sigh. Had no one ended the curse after she had been tortured?

Lily's eyes widened slightly, but she continued regardless. Touching the very end of her wand to the girl's chest, she whispered another incantation: " _Depulso aurum!_ "

The gold was pushed away from Lily's wand as though it was the matching end of a magnet; Lily quickly reversed the spell and the gold was pulled into the tip of her wand, vanished. Somewhere on the other side of the room, one of the babies made a cry of indignation, and Alice moved to comfort them.

Now that the gold had vanished, a perfectly circular burn, blackened around the edges. " _Glacius!"_ Lily said, sending a jet of frosty air from the tip of her wand, which sent steam rising to the ceiling when it made contact with the girl's burned skin, " _Sanitatum,"_ the red-head murmured again, and the burn began to heal over as Lily twisted her wand in a figure-eight motion.

They knew there was nothing to be done for her other wounds. The bluish scar that began at her navel, traveling upward until almost level with her heart, was too old to try and fix now; the crescent-shaped burns had already healed.

The cursed words on her arm could not be healed magically. Sirius made a mental note to contact his cousin, Andy, whose husband was a muggleborn healer, and was therefore a doctor in the muggle world as well as a healer in the magical one. _If we ever get out of this Godric-forsaken mess,_ a voice in the back of his mind whispered darkly.

Sirius didn't have time to dwell on their circumstances, however, because the girl in front of them began to stir. She moaned quietly, her eyes fluttering, her brows knitting together in effort once more.

Sirius realized he hadn't stopped smoothing her hair out of her face when her eyes opened.

She looked around wildly, trying to sit up, only to be grabbed by James, so she didn't sit up too quickly. When she saw his face, she relaxed immediately.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" the girl cried, practically throwing herself at James, "I'm so glad you're safe!"

James patted her shoulder awkwardly and looked through her hair at Sirius, as if to say, _what do I do?_ before replying, "Wouldn't be, if it hadn't been for you," he shrugged. At his words, she froze, and pulled back, scooting away from James in confusion, almost falling off the coffee table.

"You're not Harry," she said accusingly, as though James had committed some serious indecency.

"No, he's over there, playing with Neville."

Her head spun around so quickly, Sirius thought she might get whiplash. She looked at the babies with an odd mixture of panic and confusion on her face. Harry was currently attempting to fit an entire alphabet block into his mouth, and Neville was watching, transfixed at the effort.

She looked around the room, finally taking note of its occupants. Alice waved from her position on the floor next to the toddlers, smiling widely. She turned and looked at Frank, and he made eye contact briefly, before looking at his shoes, ever the Hufflepuff. She looked back at James again, just as confused as before, when Lily grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it warmly.

"You saved us. We owe you our lives," she said to the girl sincerely, in a way only Lily could. She could go from protective mother dragon, to mischievous Gryffindor, to genuine and comforting in the span of one sentence.

But the girl didn't seem to hear her, she just stared, wide-eyed at the ginger witch opposite her with the same strange expression of disbelief etched into her features.

Then she turned to Sirius, and that's when the conversation took a turn none of the adults in the room were expecting.

"...Sirius?"

* * *

 **Ah, yes, the Cliffhanger plot device. So overused, yet so useful at the same time.**

 **I was recently recommended a few fics to explore and I wanted to mention them down here (although I am sure these absolute BABES don't need any special recognition from me)**

 **I recently finished reading Presque Toujours Pur by Shayalonnie, and it has absolutely RUINED me. Now I can't stop thinking about the plot twists she managed to imagine and I feel frankly robbed of more Buckbeak page real estate in the books. I'm decidedly not a shipper of Dramione, but somehow here it works really well.**

 **Also, I have to give it up for the novel-length fic A Marauder's Plan, over on Ao3. It makes me want to go and punch out the Dursleys myself, as well as Dumbledore for good measure. The author isn't necessarily Dumbledore bashing, but doesn't do him any favors either.**

 **Anyway, I hoped you liked this chapter. I have some ideas for the ensuing ones I have yet to pen, and I am about 3 chapters ahead of the uploads, with just a general diagram of the story arc.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, my lovely readers! It's been so good to hear from you, and the response for this has been truly stunning. At the very latest, the next chapter will be up tomorrow.**

 **Happy reading!**

 **-Addie**

* * *

For the very first time in Hermione Granger's life, the gears in her brain ground to a halt.

"You're not Harry," Hermione said sharply; the man she just released certainly _looked_ like Harry.

His dark hair stuck up in all directions, as if he had been recently electrocuted. His glasses were round and wire-framed, similar to Harry's, although where Harry's had been beat-up and in disrepair, the man's glasses were polished and pristine. He was covered in soot, but beyond that she could see that he was taller than Harry, and less lanky. His face had the color and brightness Harry often lacked, a byproduct of his uncomfortable upbringing, and his eyes were a warm hazel where Harry's were a vibrant green. But beyond that, they could have been brothers.

After pausing for a beat, the man replied, "No, he's over there, playing with Neville."

He gestured to an area of the room behind Hermione, and she whirled around, expecting to see her two fellow Gryffindors. She found nothing of the sort.

Atop a blanket, sitting on either side of a friendly-looking woman with short hair, were two babies who looked to be barely above the age of one. The first had the same crazy black hair as her best friend (and the man sitting with her now), and appeared to be teething on an alphabet block. The second child had sandy hair, and had dropped his toys in order to devote his attention to the actions of his playmate.

Hermione saw movement in the periphery of her vision and looked over to a sheepish-looking, very tall man with the same sandy hair as the baby. He looked up from the floor for a moment, before blushing a deep scarlet, and cast his eyes downward once more.

She was just about to continue her visual examination of the room when she felt someone squeeze her hand tightly, drawing her attention.

The woman in front of her had Harry's eyes.

She was clearly saying something, her face open and genuine, but everything else shifted to the background. The expressive almond shape, the slight upturn, even the slight blue tinge near the pupil was an exact match for the eyes of her best friend. Her hair was red, but nothing like Ginny's or Ron's. The Weasleys were all freckles and soft orange hair that looked almost sunflower-colored in the light, whereas her hair was _red_. Deep and rich _Gryffindor_ red. Ginny's hair was completely straight, but the woman in front of Hermione had wavy hair, pulled up in a knot on top of her head.

Hermione realized she had been staring for an uncouth amount of time, however, and gently took her hand back. Someone shifted on the table next to her, and she turned, only to come face-to-face with a dead man.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she jumped as if she had been pinched. "...Sirius?"

He looked alarmed, his brow creased in concentration, as if trying to come to some internal consensus.

He stood up next to the coffee table, his blue eyes flashing, and drew his wand, aiming for Hermione.

"How do you know my name?" he asked darkly, ready to hex her if she said the wrong thing.

Hermione's eyes widened with hurt. This was _Sirius_. An olive complexion, black hair pulled back into a knot, a worn leather jacket covering his white shirt beneath, tattoos peaking out from the collar. He _knew_ her. She'd saved his life when she was fourteen!

"Why shouldn't I know it?" she answered, eyes darting cautiously about the room again. She thought of disarming him, or throwing him across the room (it wouldn't be difficult), but that didn't seem like a conducive strategy for this confusing situation.

"We've never met before," Sirius hadn't relaxed his stance, but the sandy-haired man had walked up behind him to place a calming hand on the shoulder of his wand arm, "I don't know who you are."

At this, Hermione looked taken-aback. She looked him over, trying to make sure she hadn't made a mistake. He looked better-rested than she had ever seen him, as well as healthier. His eyes, normally weighed down by shadows and stormy-looking, were a clear blue. He was definitely Sirius, though, only Sirius would wear pants that tight.

But then it hit her.

He looked _younger_.

She gasped, one hand coming up to her chest to feel for her time-turner, only to come up empty. Hermione was no longer frozen, her brain was putting together the puzzle pieces, assembling them at a breakneck pace.

" _He's over there, playing with Neville."_

 _The woman, screaming from upstairs._

 _The man, looking so much like Harry, searching for his wand._

 _Voldemort in the doorway._

 _Voldemort looking_ human _._

 _Harry had his mother's eyes._

Hermione looked at the woman sitting with the babies: Alice.

Hermione looked at the man with his hand on Sirius' shoulder: Frank.

She turned, and looked at the woman with red hair and Harry's eyes: Lily.

Finally, she landed on the man she had hugged, he could have been Harry's twin: James.

Tears were threatening to spill over, but Hermione took a deep breath and forced them down. Now was not the time to become a blubbering mess. She steeled herself, and stuck out her hand.

"Hermione Granger, at your service," she said, with more confidence than she felt. All Sirius did was stare at her offered hand, and did not shake it. _Ok, new tactic,_ Hermione decided, _Throw some humor into the mix._ "Er... I come in peace?"

"And we should just take your word for it, then?" Sirius snapped, he did not lower his wand.

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, getting impatient now, "Would a Death Eater have this?" she motioned to the word carved into her forearm. Sirius' eyes softened a hair, but his wand still didn't move.

"I'd make a bloody awful Death Eater anyway, what with me killing Voldemort and all," she bit out in disdain.

Sirius sighed and lowered his wand, conceding her point. "Can't blame a bloke for being vigilant, can you?" At that, a ghost of a smile crossed her face.

"I know you, because I am a member of the Order," she stood up, wincing from being flat on her back for so long, "So, what happened to my jumper?"


	9. Chapter 9

**A few people have messaged me and asked if this is a Sirimione pairing. The answer is this: I'm not sure. While I ship it, and ship it HARD, I'm not sure this story is destined to be a romantic story. Will they get together? Perhaps. Will I be writing sex scenes for every other chapter? Get your mind out of the gutter, this is rated T (although if you're into that, I can assure you I'm right there with ya). This chapter is a little shorter than normal, but only because I wanted to switch the focus after this. I also wanted to mention that Frank and Alice, while they are fantastic characters, will probably be in the periphery from now on.**

 **Anyway, I'm gonna try and post tomorrow, as well, so stay tuned!**

 **-Addie**

* * *

"So, what happened to my jumper?"

Sirius blinked, clearly having forgotten she was wearing only a bra.

"...Your... Oh! Right!" He quickly stuck his wand in his pocket, and slid off his jacket. "Here, you can use this."

Hermione took the jacket from him, slightly surprised. No one was allowed to touch Sirius' jacket. Ever. The fact that he was willing to hand it over was probably a sign of guilt after drawing his wand.

"Thank you," she said, politely, and shrugged it on. She was trying not to think about how it smelled like cigarettes, firewhiskey, and motorcycle exhaust. All Sirius.

She sat down on the couch so she could survey the group at once. "I feel as if I've been rather rude," she said sheepishly, "It's very nice to meet you all."

The other occupants of the room just stared in response, until Lily cleared her throat, and sat down next to Hermione, clearly oblivious to any boundaries of personal space.

"So, Hermione, huh? That's kind of a mouth full. How about a nickname?"

"Oh, no, that's not really nec-"

"I'm gonna call you Maya, yeah?"

"Um, well, Hermione is-"

"Great, Maya it is!" the redhead was not discouraged by the nickname-ee's lack of enthusiasm, "I'm Lily. Lily Potter."

Lily swung her legs over Hermione's lap, taking the awkward situation in stride. In truth, she felt a strange kinship to the battered girl, and wanted her to feel accepted. But otherwise, she was always this friendly. James was watching the exchange, smiling at his wife's antics.

"Oh! Jamie, come here. Maya, this is my husband, James." Lily smiled up at her husband from the couch, and James sat down on Hermione's other side, pulling Lily's feet into his lap.

"Lovely to...officially...meet you," James said bashfully, carding his fingers through his hair in a very Harry-like gesture, "We didn't really have time to exchange friendship bracelets before. You know, when you were killing the Dark Lord."

Sirius sat down in the chair next to James' side of the couch, looking curious. "So...it's true, then? Ye Olde Voldy's gone?"

Hermione returned Sirius' gaze, but blushed and looked away, suddenly shy. "Er...I suppose, yes." She jumped at Sirius' sharp laugh.

"Merlin and Morgana, that's brilliant," he exclaimed, "I wish I could've seen it."

"Well, I did see it, and I very nearly pissed myself, so I'd be careful what you wish for, Pads," James sighed, halfway between horror and admiration.

At that, Hermione stiffened. "Oh, Godric, I'm so sorry... you must be terrified of me," the small witch put her face in her hands, but not before an upset look crossed her face.

Lily and James exchanged a look over her head, and they seemed to come to an agreement. They both took a wrist, and tugged Hermione's hands away from her face. "Why would we be terrified of you? You saved us! You saved our child," James said softly, one hand on her wrist, the other on her shoulder. Hermione looked up and gave the room a watery smile.

"But... now you've seen what I'm capable of," she protested, her nose crinkling, "A-and...people don't like things they can't understand." The Longbottoms took seats on the couch across the coffee table, each holding a sleeping baby. They looked at Hermione with sadness in their eyes.

"Is that why you were hiding it for so long?" Lily spoke gently, as if Hermione might be spooked at any moment, "Is that why you bound most of your magic?"

The girl nodded in response, "My magic... it's too w-wild to be out in the open," she tried to explain, "I can't control it."

"Were you having accidental magic incidents?" Sirius asked, his eyes full of concern.

Hermione shook her head, "For a while, it was okay, but as I got older, my spells became overpowered." Tears were forming in her eyes again, threatening to roll down her face in fat droplets.

"What about your teachers? Did you ask them for help?" James spoke this time, polishing his glasses on his sweater.

"I only ever told one. He was my favorite teacher. But because of my power level, there was no way he could help me without getting hurt. I couldn't risk going to any of the others." She looked down when she mentioned her teacher, and it was clear he was dead.

"What about the Order?" Lily suggested, "You're a member. I'm sure Dumbled-"

"No!" the girl squeaked in apprehension, "I can't tell him. I don't want to be a weapon."

All the eyes in the room had gone wide at her outburst, save the babies, who were drooling in their sleep. Everyone in the room was a devoted believer in Dumbledore's leadership. Sirius, a powerful wizard himself, winced at the word "weapon." As one of the top aurors, he knew what it was like to be used like an apathetic object of war.

Alice cleared her throat. "Ahem...um...Lil? If it's alright with you, Frank and I are gonna put the boys down for the night, yeah?" Lily nodded, and the Longbottoms left the room.

There was a long silence after that.

Sirius was rubbing absentmindedly at the stubble along his jaw, while Lily stared into space as James resumed his foot rub. They were all clearly in shock. In the span of a few hours, Lily and James had been attacked, they found out one of their closest friends is a spy, and their house was destroyed. Not to mention the strange girl appearing out of nowhere to destroy Voldemort. And the subsequent healing of the girl on the coffee table, for which none of them were trained.

"So..." Sirius broke the silence, "should someone call Remus?"


	10. Chapter 10

**Hello my lovely readers!**

 **I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting like I have. I just returned to school for the year, and moving all my stuff took up far more time than I imagined. Here is the next chapter, and I hope you enjoy!**

 **PS: If any of you have any suggestions for how I might improve my writing style, I'm all ears!**

 **-Addie**

* * *

Unlike most Gryffindors, the last word one would use to describe Remus Lupin would be _reckless_.

Remus was strategic and calculating like a Slytherin, he was loyal like a Hufflepuff, he sought enlightenment like a Ravenclaw, but he was in Gryffindor because he was brave and fierce above all else.

Nothing, however, could have prepared him for the situation at Longbottom Manor.

It took a lot out of a werewolf to spy on other werewolves. Remus was lying, face-down, on the floor of his apartment after a week spent with the packs, when a glowing dog arrived on his windowsill.

 _Padfoot_ , he thought foggily, recognizing the Patronus. He waited in suspense for a few seconds before the dog opened its muzzle to release the message it carried.

"Moony, we need you at the Longbottoms. Tell no one, and come alone," came Sirius' voice, "...Oh! And bring some chocolate buttons, as well."

"Sirius!" came Lily's voice from the background as the patronus faded, "Now is not the time to dictate your bloody grocery list!" Remus smirked as the dog disappeared. The message was concerning, right up until the chocolate buttons.

He sighed and sat up, dusting himself off, not that it would have made a difference to his threadbare outfit. Recently, legislation had been passed making it increasingly difficult for werewolves to find employment, and Remus looked his budget.

Grabbing a bag of chocolate buttons from the counter, he turned on the spot, thinking of the Longbottoms' living room.

As soon as he felt the floor underneath his feet once more, he was accosted by Sirius, who wrapped him in a tight hug as if they hadn't seen each other in over a decade.

"Moony! Oh, gods, is it good to see you," his dark-haired friend pulled back the hug suddenly, with a mixture of desperation and concern, "You didn't tell anyone you were coming, did you?"

"Sirius, up until 20 seconds ago, I was laying on my apartment floor," Remus responded with an eye-roll. Then he caught sight of Lily and James over Sirius' shoulder, a witch sporting brown curls in between them on the sofa, "Er... hello."

She looked startled, as if she had seen a ghost. _Probably my scars,_ Remus thought to himself, _they are rather hideous._ He tried for his warmest smile, but all his current energy levels could muster was a half-grimace. Nonetheless, she stood up, and walked slowly over to him, her steps careful, as if he might cut and run, but her face held a peculiar expression of awe.

"Hi. I'm Hermione," the girl began, her expression turned hopeful. Upon further examination, she looked as tired and beat-up as Remus felt, but strangest of all was her attire. She was wearing muggle cargo pants with a thick belt and boots, as if she were preparing for a hike, and she was covered in dirt, reminding Remus distinctly of the werewolves living in the packs. Stranger still, was that she was wearing Sirius' jacket. No one, not even the Marauders, were allowed to so much as touch the jacket, much less wear it.

She stuck out her hand, and Remus averted his eyes politely when the jacket opened, revealing a good portion of her stomach. She blushed, but kept her hand extended, and Remus took it.

"Remus," he introduced himself. Despite his lack of sleep, he was fully awake and engaged now, and caught James' eye with a questioning look.

"Right! Oh, right," James started, and he gestured to the armchair closest to him, for Remus to sit, "we have some news. Umm... I'm not sure where to start."

James looked to Lily, who spoke, "The short version is this: tonight Voldemort attacked us," Remus inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to launch into attack mode. Lily indicated the girl, who retook her place in between the Potters. "Maya here - what was the term you used before, Jamie?"

"Um, 'bloody roasted,' dear."

"Maya here bloody roasted him," Lily said with a strange look on her face, "He's dead."

Remus looked at the girl in shock. She was staring at her hands, folded in her lap, avoiding his gaze. He looked at Sirius for confirmation, who nodded.

"I-what-how-?" Remus had no idea what to say, "You?"

The girl looked up, her eyes flickering, as if daring him to argue. "Me."

"Wow."

Sirius chuckled, "Such eloquence. This is why we keep you around."

Remus barely heard him. He was still in a staring contest with the brunette witch.

James cleared his throat, "Also, our house is destroyed and we didn't want you to panic."

"How?" Remus asked simply, thinking one-word questions were best.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, "Er... fiendfyre?"

Remus blinked, "Merlin and Morgana, you didn't half-arse it, did you?"

Despite herself, Hermione snorted at that, "No, I definitely full-arsed it."

James nodded seriously, "She was knackered for about an hour after."

The witch rolled her eyes, "That's the last time I'll be swooning in your presence, Potter."

"Oi!" James exclaimed in mock outrage, "I'll have you know I had witches swooning left and right in my day!"

"I seem to recall the only one swooning in our relationship was you, Jamie," Lily observed evenly.

Sirius leaned forward and winked, "Don't worry, babes, I'll have you swooning on command in no time."

Remus groaned at the throbbing in his head, fingers going to his temples, "The next person who uses that verb will find themselves swooning, but permanently!"

Sirius grimaced at his friend's pain, "Sorry, Moons, we forgot it was your time of the month!" He went to chuckle, but clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Remus opened his eyes expecting to see either confusion or horror etched onto the brunette's face, but instead found only a soft expression on the newcomer's face. Odd reaction, but it didn't seem like his secret was blown. He chose to glare at Sirius instead, "Some of us haven't slept since last week, Padfoot."

As if on cue, the newcomer yawned, "I'd really fancy a kip, myself. Is there somewhere I could stay?"

Sirius jumped right in, "You're welcome to stay with me- in the spare room, I mean."

It was Lily who spoke up, "We should all get some rest, anyway," her voice broke, and tears welled in the corners of her eyes, "Jamie... our house... we can't go back!"

Sirius took one of Lily's hands, "Why do you think I put that undetectable extension charm up? You should all stay with me." He sent Remus a sharp look, " _All_ of you."

Suddenly, Hermione jumped up, as if shocked. "Wards!"

James looked up, "What about them?"

"We have to set up wards! NOW!" She looked around at the group, as if expecting them to understand the urgency she was feeling. She sighed, realizing they weren't on the same page. "Honestly, can't you feel these crumbling?"

"Maya, no one can _feel_ warding charms," Sirius' brow furrowed as he looked at the girl, "The whole point is that they're undetectable until you try and cross one."

Hermione groaned, looking up at the ceiling as if glaring at the heavens, "Why me? Just...what I would give to be normal," she looked back at Sirius, her hair sparking in irritation. "Obviously, I can feel them. I need to fix them before we leave."

"I'm sorry, but are you casually dropping the information that you can detect _undetectable magic?_ " Remus cut in, a few moments behind. This was a lot for even someone of his capacity to take in.

"Well... yes."

"Damn," Remus felt it was best not to argue at this juncture.

Hermione began to explain, "I've actually made a lot of progress in the last couple of months involving ward polarity and specificity, using a combination of traditional Celtic runes and Native American warding techniques-"

This was where Remus' inner bookworm made its appearance. "Were you using the Sioux or Apache methods? What were you using to balance the side-effects of isotropism?"

Lily wouldn't be left out. "Did that majorly complicate the wand movements in casting?"

Actually, since Native Americans didn't traditionally use wands at all, it simplified the wandwork signific-"

"Okay, save your smart-arse convention for later," Sirius spoke over the chattering, "Can you improve the wards or not?" Hermione sighed in response.

"As I was _saying_ ," she shot a pointed look in Sirius' direction, "I recently had a breakthrough in isolating the curse associated with the Dark Mark. Anyone attempting to get through my wards would be killed on contact."

The tension in the room was palpable.

"You can create a lethal barrier for Death Eaters?!" Sirius shouted, only to be shushed by Lily, who gestured to the ceiling, indicating the babies above.

Hermione smirked a little. "Not around anything more than a few acres, but yes. I can also ward moving targets, such as people. Someone branded with the Dark Mark fires on you, they would be met with their own spell, ten-fold. As for physical assault, I'm relatively confident the Marked assailant would be blown across the room, at least, upon touching any one of you."

If they had been speechless before, her audience was shocked now.

"So I'll just go do that, then? Sirius, can you hear me?"

He carded his hands through his hair, and managed to nod. Hermione, satisfied, went to leave the room, only to be followed closely by Sirius.

"Can I watch?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone! This chapter is almost 3 times as long as the others, but i think it's well worth it.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Love,**

 **Addie**

* * *

As soon as the front door to Longbottom Manor closed behind them, Hermione found herself in a compromising position.

Sirius grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the side of the house, and Hermione let out a gasp of pain as her hipbone connecting with the bricks. Faster than she had thought possible, his wand was drawn, its tip pressed underneath her chin.

"Okay, kitten, you're gonna tell me how you got here," Sirius' forearm dug into her sternum, pinning her to the side of the house, "and how you know me. Because I certainly don't know you."

She struggled against his grip, "Sirius- you're hurting me-"

"You just appear inside the boundaries of a Fidelius Charm, at the same time as Voldemort, and you expect me to be _gentle?!_ " As she met his hard and unyielding gaze, Hermione was confronted with his resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange for the first time. "Merlin, you looked like you'd been through a bloody war!"

"I can't-" she squeaked, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes,

"You will," he insisted darkly, but his eyes shifted slightly, "the things James described, the things you say you can do, _aren't fucking possible!_ You can't just waltz in here like the Morrigan, blow Voldemort up, and not answer any questions!" His chest was heaving, his eyes wild, but he stopped actively trying to shove Hermione through the wall. He didn't lower his wand.

Sirius' eyes searched hers, as if he could tell whether she was Dark just by looking, and Hermione cleared her throat. "You're... you're on my foot."

At that, Sirius looked down, and seemed to realize for the first time he had practically tackled her. He took a couple steps back, but didn't relax his stance. If she was as powerful as they said, she should have fought him off easily. She was in no state to fight him physically, and she hadn't even reached for her wand. He towered over her, and probably outweighed her by six stone. Sirius almost regretted his suspicion just looking at her, but he proceeded anyway.

"You show up covered in dirt and blood, cursed wounds, metal melted into your chest, and tortured to what should have been insanity, and you still manage to defeat the darkest wizard of all time. No one should be able to survive that," he said earnestly, his voice returning to its normal gentle tenor.

Hermione took a deep breath, "As I said before, I know you because I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Sirius quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, "Never seen you at the meetings," he observed evenly.

"No, you couldn't have, I'm...er... _younger_ than you," she watched as he weighed this information, just hoping he wouldn't continue this line of questioning. She ignored the whisper in the back of her head, _Yeah, about nineteen bloody years younger._

"How old are you? The Order doesn't let anyone under age fight."

"Eighteen." His brow furrowed at her answer. She was so small, for an eighteen-year-old.

"You've an Londoner accent, but I don't remember you from Hogwarts," he continued.

"Pass."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm passing the question up," she retorted, crossing her arms stubbornly.

"There are no passes!" Sirius exclaimed, looking frustrated.

"I'm deferring until a later date," Hermione insisted, "Preferably one during which I am properly clothed." In the moonlight mixed with the light from the Manor, she could see him flush slightly, although his expression betrayed nothing.

"Fine," Sirius conceded with a sigh, "We'll move on."

"Excellent."

Sirius Black was not a man of subtlety. He said what he thought, when he thought it. But even he hesitated before asking his next question: "Who tortured you?"

Hermione's expression darkened, but she held his gaze, "A Death Eater," she said, her voice emotionless and flat, "A very angry Death Eater."

"If you're powerful like James seems to believe, how could they have managed that?" Sirius' demeanor was that of a doctor asking a deeply personal question. Business-like, but not indifferent. He was an Auror, after all.

"I wouldn't-" Hermione stopped herself and re-phrased, "I made sure my magic wouldn't get away from me."

"Why?"

Hermione bowed her head, no longer meeting his eyes, "It could have hurt my friends."

Sirius looked surprised at this, his eyes wide, "You bound your magic for your friends?"

"I can channel it, but I can't control it. Not really, anyway. And it feels so...right...when I give in, I feel like I could be swallowed up. They're safer when I'm in control."

"You were tortured, though! And you just took it, for them? When you could have defended yourself?"

When she looked back up at him, it was with intensity and determination, "Yes. And I'd do it again. I'd die for them, too."

"Why?"

"Because they would die for me."

This was something Sirius could understand. He would die for his friends, lay down his life without hesitation, if it meant they could walk away unscathed. "When did it happen?"

Something about this question seemed to greatly amuse Hermione, and she tilted her head to the side, a sad smile on her lips, "About a month ago-"

"A _month?!_ " Something snapped inside Sirius, and he reacted harshly, causing Hermione to flinch reflexively, "A _whole fucking month?!_ "

"Er...yes-"

"You should be absolutely mental! Utterly destroyed!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to look frustrated, "What's your point?"

Sirius laughed coldly, his distress evident now, "We didn't break the curse until tonight!"

She paled, a considerable feat with her already-ashen complexion, "What do you mean, 'break the curse?'"

"The aftershocks for a normal-strength Cruciatus Curse are incredibly painful, but magic is all about intent," he gauged her reaction for a moment before continuing, "So to be tortured with absolute hatred, without remorse, with the intent to cause insanity, is much worse."

"Oh, Godric..." Hermione groaned, eyes growing wider by the second.

"The stronger the curse, the more it lingers. You were essentially being low-level tortured until the curse was broken."

Slowly, the pieces were dropping into place for Hermione. She hadn't felt normal since that day at Malfoy Manor, but had attributed it to recovery time. She couldn't stop casting at full power, couldn't wrangle her magic like she normally did, but she had thrown caution to the wind, and did her best to channel the power into protecting her loved ones. Hermione no longer slept at night, and had to put Silencing Charms around her bed in Shell Cottage so no one could hear her scream when Bellatrix followed her into her dreams.

But there was a war on, and her weaknesses didn't matter. She put on a brave face, if not for herself, then for her best friend. Rather than push away the majority of her magic, she ignored her pain and distress in favor of helping Harry. So he could survive. So they could all survive. Even if it meant she didn't. Self-preservation was low-priority when the fate of the Wizarding World was at stake.

Sirius could see she was struggling to process this information. He only knew about this side-effect of the Cruciatus Curse because of his job as an Auror. He felt like her should comfort the girl, but wasn't sure how. He decided to at least lower his wand. Reacting to this gesture, Hermione relaxed slightly, leaning against the side of the Manor and wrapping her arms around herself, as if cold.

As Sirius watched, she collected herself, and lifted her chin to look at him. She waved a hand in a beckoning gesture. "Well, go on. What else do you want to know?"

He rocked back on his heels before answering, "So, what, you just _happened_ to be around and powerful at the _exact moment_ Voldemort caught up with Lily and James?" His tone was a little incredulous, but Hermione didn't seem bothered by it.

"No, I wasn't. I don't actually know what happened. I was at H- in Scotland...at the time," The time-traveling bombshell would have to be dropped later. Right then, she was kicking herself for not being a better liar. She was trying to sound casual, but it just came out wrong.

Sirius looked like he could tell she wasn't being truthful. "You don't know how you got there, or didn't know Voldemort was attacking?"

"Er...both," she said with a grimace, knowing it sounded fake.

"Both?" Sirius was almost mocking her now.

"Yes!"

Sirius put a hand to his face. "Alright, fine," they would come back to this, he decided, "So let me see if I got this right: you're in ' _Scotland'_ one minute, then in Potter Cottage the next, _just in time_ to face off with Voldy. You got Lily and James and Harry out of the way, while simultaneously _frying_ _the Dark Lord_ _like a bloody chip_. James said you fainted right after, and you were unconscious when I showed up, too. So, we take you here, heal your injuries. You wake up, mistake James for his _infant son_. You somehow recognize _me_ , claim to be a member of the Order, and your first concern was _the fucking wards?!_ "

Hermione scowled. "I'm not sure I like your tone. Voldemort's followers are still out there, you know." _And Frank and Alice were attacked only a week from now the first time around,_ she added, to herself.

This really set Sirius entirely over the edge. He growled, and stomped away, muttering to himself, " _Un-fucking-believable...covered in blood...doesn't like my tone...barbecued Voldemort..."_

Hermione regarded the swearing wizard with the same look with which one would regard a confusing piece of artwork. She supposed this was a lot for Sirius to deal with. If muttering expletives was how he dealt with things, so be it. In fact, it didn't seem like such a bad plan to Hermione, given her current situation.

"Ahem," Hermione cleared her throat, "Do you have more questions or...?"

"Oh, how rude of me," Sirius retorted sardonically, "Did you have somewhere to be?"

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared. Sirius pretended he didn't notice his jacket come open, and Hermione pretended she hadn't seen him notice. She was _far_ past self-consciousness, anyway. "Can I please fix the wards now? You know, like I came out here to do?"

Sirius blinked for a moment, and decided to put his inquisition on the back burner for now. "Fine," he sighed, "Let's get on with it, then."

Hermione crossed the distance between them, but stopped short. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly deciding whether to say something more.

Sirius sighed again, something he realized he was doing a lot. "What?" he groaned.

"It's just...almost no one's seen me do...this," she gesticulated in a general way, to indicate magic, "Only James, earlier, and one of my professors." Here was something Hermione was truly self-conscious about. What if Sirius thought she was too much of a threat, and attacked her? Or worse, ran for the hills?

"Are you...worried about me?" Sirius asked, with a hint of disbelief, but mostly amusement.

"Well...yes," she answered honestly, but quickly added, "From what I've been told...it's a bit much."

"A bit much?" he repeated, confused, "You do know I'm a wizard, yeah? I've seen magic before, kitten."

A crease appeared in between her eyebrows. "I'm not sure you know what you're getting into, here."

Sirius highly doubted this would be the case, but Hermione looked like she was about to cry. It was through these circumstances Sirius found himself trying to reassure the witch he had been threatening minutes before.

"Would it help if you walked me through your plan?" Sirius suggested, trying not to think about how ludicrous this all was.

She brightened considerably at that. "Yes! Most of my warding techniques are fairly standard; muggle repellants, unplottable charms, and spellwork to reinforce the perimeter...and I'll channel that through the keystones on the property. But last month I was able to do more research and expand my techniques..."

Hermione went on to explain that she did some research during her recovery time; by isolating the Dark magic in her scars, she created a signature for Dark magic the wards could recognize.

Specifically, she keyed the wards to attack anything comparable to the type of concentrated Dark magic found in the Dark Mark of Voldemort's followers. Her scars had the same level of permanence woven into the curse that a Dark Mark would, so she was able to make it even more precise.

The complexity of her calculations stunned Sirius. He could tell she knew her work backwards and forwards. For every thread in the fabric of the enchantment, she had thought of ten ways to strengthen the knit. He couldn't understand every step in the process, but he understood enough to realize Hermione wasn't mucking about; the witch was sharp as a whip and just as deadly.

"...but with the Cheyenne translations of the runes, the signature fit more exactly. I've never _actually_ tested it against a Death Eater to make sure it's lethal, but at the very least it would incapacitate them beyond duelling ability."

For a moment, Sirius didn't realize Hermione had finished her explanation. He shook his head slightly as he caught up. "Bloody hell, kitten, you really do full-arse everything!"

He sounded so much like Ron, it almost blew a hole clean through Hermione.

Sirius saw her expression crumple in pain. "Alright there, love? Are you hurt?"

The grief struck her like a ton of bricks, flattening her lungs, and stopping her heart. Would she ever see Ron again? Or Harry? What about her parents? They all depended on her, one way or another. And here she was, chatting with a dead man, like nothing was the matter.

How was she supposed to move on, after losing everything?

"I can't..."

Sirius was kneeling in front of her, so he was looking up into her face. He grabbed her hands in both of his own. His blue eyes, so steely in the moonlight, flickered with concern. "Talk to me, kitten. What is it?"

"Sirius... everyone's g-gone!" Hermione's tearless sobs were of absolute anguish, "My friends...my f-family...I've lost them all!"

It was as if Sirius had a window into an alternate dimension. One where he lost everything tonight.

James and Lily: dead protecting Harry.

Remus: apparently betrayed by Sirius, left destitute and alone.

Peter: wriggling free of his vengeful grasp, never to be found again.

And he realized Hermione was bearing a burden that very well could have been his.

This girl had no one left, but it had almost been Sirius in her place. Sirius, alone. Sirius, unable to cope with such a great loss. Sirius, no longer able to protect his friends, for his friends were ghosts.

Sirius had the sudden urge to comfort the girl his the leather jacket. He pulled her close, and down onto his lap, to better embrace her. She flung her arms around his neck (Sirius suspected this was a signature move of her's), and buried her face.

As soon as Hermione was in his arms, Sirius could feel her relax; her grief expending any remaining energy she possessed. "Shhh...it's alright, love...we're here for you..."

Hermione pulled back and looked for any hint of deception in Sirius' gaze. Her voice barely above a whisper, "Do you mean that?"

"Of course," Sirius said, and he was sure. The moment she had laid down her life for the Potters, she became family. Yes, he had pulled his wand on her twice since then, and shoved her into a brick wall, but that was the definition of family as far as he was concerned.

In the darkness, blue sparks appeared like lightning bugs, or stars. If stars could orbit a person.

"Don't be scared," Hermione breathed, as the sparks, like blue embers, traveled up the lengths of her curly hair. As if stirred by a breeze, the curls lifted from her shoulders, twisting slightly in the air. Sirius could feel the magic swirling around them, picking up speed. He watched as Hermione shut her eyes and sighed, a look of relief etched into her features. He wouldn't dare pull away from her, not now. Not while this witch in his arms was showing him a side of her few had seen.

It was with surprise Sirius realized she wasn't even holding a wand.

This wasn't Dark or evil magic, this magic was _pure_. Unfiltered. The way the magical current flowed around her was mesmerizing. It seemed to move with her in perfect synchronization. Right now the grief and sorrow was palpable, mirroring her exactly. A back corner of Sirius' mind considered what his cousin Dora, a metamorphmagus, would think if she saw another human mood ring.

When Hermione opened her eyes, the awestruck face of Sirius Black filled her vision.

"Thank you," Sirius intoned, "for showing me."

Hermione actually giggled, her musical laughter filled the night with hope. "Thank _you_."

"Me? I'm only the furniture around here," Sirius joked, giving her a small squeeze to indicate her position on his lap.

She blushed scarlet immediately, the sparks in the air turning pink as she realized how much skin she was showing. But teasing was clearly the right way to go, her magic slowing slightly for her higher comfort level. She had been unsure before, and anxious, so everything had been swirling faster than usual.

She stood up, and dusted herself off (though it wouldn't make a dent in her destroyed jeans), offering Sirius a hand. "Right, let me just finish up here," she said apologetically. It wasn't like her to get so off track.

Removing her wand from the holster on her forearm, Hermione turned toward the gates of the property. Her wandwork was incredibly precise. As he watched, she swirled her wand in a lattice pattern, weaving through the air, following with a nonsensical movement of what Sirius could only assume was a midair essay using her wand as the quill.

Out of everything, her final enchantment was the most complex. She needed two hands, one for the wandwork, the other molding and pushing and steering, almost like she was rolling out dough.

The magic felt the most final that time, as well. Before Sirius' eyes, a solid wall of ivory stone took shape around the perimeter of the Longbottom property. Then Hermione's wand twirled, as if turning a key in a lock, and the wall vanished again, although Sirius knew it was definitely there.

The sparks floating in the air had all but disappeared; the ones still glowing turned to a dim periwinkle. Hermione turned back to Sirius, and opened her mouth to say something, but yawned instead.

"Let's all go to my flat, and have a kip, yeah?" Sirius suggested, "It's almost daybreak anyway, so Harry won't mind the move, the little fawn."

Hermione nodded blearily, not able to muster the energy to actually reply. That the Longbottoms were safe took a huge weight off her shoulders. Her thoughts turned to Neville, slipping that sweet wrapper into his pocket at St. Mungo's, the only form of affection his mother had been capable of giving. _Things will be different now- better, even,_ she thought, a bittersweet feeling accompanying it. Sorrow for her Neville, the one she couldn't help; and relief for the Neville sleeping upstairs, the one who would never know such loss or pain.

* * *

Hoping to deal with Dumbledore in the next chapter... May stray into bashing territory, fair warning.

Let me know if you have any suggestions about that confrontation! I have a general outline of the whole story already, but not sure about the specifics yet.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello, everyone! Thank you for being so patient with me and this update. I took some time to reimagine this chapter, because I really feel like it highlights why Hermione fits into this time so easily. if it helps, the timeline goes like this: 20:00 Voldemort attacks, 22:00 Hermione and Sirius are fixing the wards, and this chapter starts at 1:00 on November 1st.**

 **Love,**

 **Addie**

* * *

By the time Sirius herded all three Potters (and Remus for good measure) through the floo to his flat, Hermione was so tired she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow in the spare bedroom.

Finally, the Marauders could speak candidly amongst themselves. They needed a plan. For moving forward in the war. For dealing with Peter. For Hermione, learning more about her, and where she came from.

"And, how we can help her," Lily insisted, glaring at the three wizards pointedly.

"And how we can help her," James sighed, at a loss for ideas, "She should probably see a healer, and we'll have to find someone who has dealt with magic suppression before."

"My first thought would be Dumbledore, for obvious reasons," Remus chimed in, "but she said-"

"-She 'didn't want to be a weapon,'" Sirius finished, with his face in his hands, "What does that even mean?"

"Where is Dumbledore, anyway?" Lily pointed out, "He put up protection! He was supposed to be monitoring the cottage-"

"Lot of good that did us when Voldemort rang our fucking doorbell, Lily!" James was beginning to feel uneasy about this. It wasn't like Dumbledore to disappear like this. And James wanted to know how Lord Voldemort was able to take a stroll through their garden last night.

"James, we know you're upset, but shut up before you say something you don't mean," snapped Remus. The group knew all too well James had a knack for opening his mouth at the worst possible moments.

After a pause, Sirius snarled, "We need to do something about the rat." The other three nodded in agreement, all looking murderous.

"But we have to be smart about it," Lily reasoned, though her eyes flashed angrily.

"Any ideas about where he might hide?" Remus asked, the group lapsing into silent contemplation.

"I might know," came a voice from the hall, causing all four to whirl around, startled at Hermione's sudden appearance, "but I don't think you should chase him immediately."

"Why not?" Sirius snapped harshly. Did she know what he did? How he betrayed them all?

Hermione gave him a sad look, but only replied, "He'd be expecting that."

"How would you know?" Remus demanded, his curiosity getting the better of him, despite the glare Lily was sending his way.

The young witch's gaze flicked from James to Sirius, back to Remus, finally settling on Lily, and Sirius saw an unreadable emotion flicker across her face as she locked eyes with the redhead. Whatever she saw there settled her internal debate, and she answered, "I met Peter before; when I was fourteen."

It seemed every time Hermione volunteered information, Sirius ended up with more questions than when he began. "But...you said you're eighteen, yeah? We would've been at Hogwarts, then."

"Actually, my birthday is in September, so I suppose I'm nineteen, now," she said, a small crease appearing between her brows, "I hadn't thought of that."

"Right, so we were sixteen?" Sirius coaxed, trying to get more details.

Hermione laughed in exasperation, "Godric, this is hard to explain," she said, finally, "I met Peter Pettigrew almost thirteen years _from_ now, but five years _ago_ for me."

She was met with silence, and uncertain expressions.

Lily came to her senses first. "Sorry, but...what do you mean thirteen years _from_ now?"

"I met Peter Pettigrew in 1994."

Sirius couldn't believe his ears. Here he was, a wizard, a person capable of magic, but this was unbelieveable. Time travel wasn't possible. The implications alone...

James was up and pacing, his hands rumpling his hair in agitation, "I don't understand. You're from the future?"

"Yes," she answered.

"You're a time traveler?" Remus demanded.

"Yes."

"You're from the future?" James asked again.

"I am from the future," she confirmed.

"You're sure?" James questioned.

A small smile crossed Hermione's face, "Absolutely certain."

"Jamie, stop pestering her," Lily scolded, clearly not having the same amount of trouble as the boys, "Merlin's beard, you're a wizard, and you're having trouble believing in time travel?"

James looked at his wife, bewildered, "Yes! It's supposed to be impossible!"

Lily raised an eyebrow, "Where I come from, magic is impossible, darling."

Remus groaned from the other end of the sofa, his head between his knees, "Oh, this makes my head hurt."

Hermione was doing her best to be patient, but her unease at revealing this was starting to show. She shifted where she stood, and looked at her feet, suddenly feeling very out of place. Suddenly, James whirled on her, eyes wide, and said accusingly, "You called me Harry."

She blinked, unable to catch up for a moment, "What?"

James had a look of comprehension on his face, "You mistook me for Harry, when you woke up!"

Lily's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Do you know Harry in the future?"

Hermione smiled, moved around the back of the couch, and knelt in front of her fellow witch, her eyes filling with tears, "He's my very best friend, Lily. The first friend I ever made."

Lily gasped, a hand covering her mouth, "Really?"

"Really. He's brave, and caring, and loyal," she looked between the Potters, "Everyone says he looks like James, but with his mum's eyes," A wide grin spread across her face, and her eyes sparkled with tears. How was it possibly fair that she could sit with James and Lily, Sirius and Remus, when her Harry never got the chance?

Lily smiled, clearly envisioning a grown-up Harry. James put a hand on his wife's shoulder, and said in a sheepish voice, "So I suppose you know us, too, then?"

Hermione's smile faded as soon as it had appeared, the color draining from her face. "I know Sirius and Remus, but...not you or Lily."

Now it was James' turn to gasp, "Last night...if you hadn't been there..."

Hermione nodded weakly, and tears went rolling down her cheeks, "My Harry grew up...unloved. I tried to make up for it, at school, but..." She trailed off, staring into space. Her heart ached for her best friend, as if a gaping crater had been punched through her chest.

When Hermione looked up, it was straight into the familiar jade-colored eyes of Lily Potter. Shoulders shaking with anger, Lily's crimson waves swirled around her, fists clenched at her sides. Hermione had only ever seen this look on Harry's darkest days; those times, during which a normal temper tantrum paled in comparison, and usually ended with several broken sneakoscopes.

James looked how Hermione felt: stricken and helpless. Twenty-one-year-old blokes weren't meant to deal with their mortality just yet. Not that he'd thought himself invincible, but still. Remus had propped his chin on his palm, apparently contemplating the implications of Hermione's words. Sirius appeared to have an infinite number of questions. He demanded, "Unloved! But what about us! The hell were me and Moony, then!"

Hermione's expression was drawn, her lips pale. "He didn't meet either of you..." her eyes flickered between the two wizards, "...until third year."

Remus' voice was a whisper, "Third year?"

"But I'm his godfather!" Sirius protested, but found himself at a loss. "I'm...supposed to-"

"-You were supposed to take him, yes, but..." she took a shaky breath, "you couldn't."

"And why not?" Remus' head snapped to attention.

Hermione drew a deep breath, " _Siriuswasinazkabanformurder,"_ she blurted, but reined herself in after a pause. "Sirius was in Azkaban for murder, and you were...unwell."

Sirius and Remus were equally shocked, but Hermione had a lot of experience comforting upset Gryffindors. For Remus, she knew it was more embarrassment at his condition, and Sirius looked devastated at the thought of leaving Harry.

"Third year was eventful," Hermione said with a small smile, "Harry actually spent most of it thinking Sirius was out to get him, so the werewolf thing was a footnote, to be honest."

Remus' jaw dropped in disbelief, "But... Sirius is, well, Sirius! He's an Auror! After Dumbledore, he's the greatest threat to Voldemort in the whole sodding war!"

Sirius cut in, "Mate, flattery will get you _everywhere_ , but-"

Remus wasn't finished, "How did they even decide he was guilty, then? Did they flip a sickle?!"

"Well, they-"

"-all his sacrifices so insignificant he didn't deserve the benefit of the doubt?!"

"Merlin, Remus, he wasn't even TRIED!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Hermione's cheeks were flushed with emotion. Sirius' eyebrows were raised so high, they could have disappeared into his hairline.

"I'm sorry," he began, clasping his hand in front of him, elbows on his knees, "you're telling me that no one realized I hadn't been tried?!"

Hermione leaned forward. The injustice of Sirius' case had always struck her, but she had been privy to the details for years. Nevertheless, she tried to be delicate. "Sirius, they thought you were the Dark Lord's right-hand man, that you betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort, hunted Pettigrew down, and killed 12 muggles in the process. Peter framed you. The aurors found you, in the middle of a blown-up street, laughing your head off like a maniac. You weren't _questioned_ , much less _tried_."

James finally found his voice. "How long?"

A crease formed between Hermione's brows in concentration. "How long, what?"

"How long until Dumbledore could get him out?"

"Twelve years," she replied, grimly, "And he escaped, no one released him."

Everyone seemed deeply troubled by this. Lily gripped both of James' hands in hers as if she alone could anchor him. Remus looked visibly ill, his face ashen, his mouth drawn in a thin line. Sirius' eyes, normally twinkling with amusement, were empty and staring blankly at Hermione.

Hermione, to her credit, was holding herself together. The beatings her body had taken in the past (or future?) nine months were extensive. She knew she was malnourished, that she was covered in scars, that her features were sunken where they should be soft and curved. She had been suppressing her magic before she was tortured, but now it couldn't be restrained. Oddly, her magic was testing its boundaries; not surging forward like a dam broken or a rubber band snapped like she expected. She knew there would be consequences for the choices she made, and this particular set of repercussions would reveal itself eventually.

When the trio escaped Malfoy Manor, it seemed they left a piece of her behind: the Hermione that cared if she was liked, that took every 'Mudblood' like a knife in her heart, that followed the rules and kept her head down. That part of her, still bleeding on the cold marble floor, held her hostage. She felt trapped, she felt paranoid, and she remained vigilant. She couldn't afford to let her guard down.

Hermione suddenly knew what it was like for Sirius, the Sirius of her time, to be confined to Grimmauld Place. The exact location where he had been vulnerable, at the mercy of his abusers. She knew where the hollow look in Sirius' eyes had come from, the constant vigilance, as if waiting for an attacker to jump out from around every corner.

But this Sirius didn't have that hollow look; his steely blue eyes were clear and alert. And the sight of him, never to be the shell of the man she once knew, gave her hope. Hope that one day she wouldn't feel so hollow and alone.

The face of a post-Azkaban Sirius, driven by revenge, seared onto her brain, she looked up at the Sirius in front of her, fire and passion in her gaze, "That will not happen again," she declared emphatically, "Not if I have anything to do with it."

While Sirius sat quietly, no one spoke. He deserved a chance to react.

"Who did I kill?"

His voice was so quiet, Hermione might have missed his words entirely if she hadn't seen his lips move. "Sirius, I-"

"Who. Did. I. Kill?"

"You went to kill Peter Pettigrew," she answered tentatively, "but he faked his death and framed you."

The collective gasp in the room cut through her like nails on a chalkboard, making her shiver. "You were grieving, and you made a rash decision," she hesitated, unsure whether to try and be reassuring, "for what it's worth, under those circumstances, I would have done the same thing."

Sirius looked back at her with incredulity, "Don't you see?" his voice cracked, "I suggested we change secret-keepers! James and Lily would be dead! I would have died for him-"

He broke off, the words dying on his lips. Hermione nodded in comprehension, "But he wouldn't do the same. He betrayed you."

Behind Sirius, James nodded, and placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "Pads," he began, prompting Sirius to turn, "we didn't make you Harry's godfather for nothing. Lily and I wanted you to protect him if we couldn't."

Lily jumped over nimbly, and landed practically on Sirius' lap, causing him to groan, "And placing your trust in Peter doesn't make you a traitor," she added, her eyes ablaze, "That would be him."

"And he will pay," Remus said darkly, a mixture of grief and disgust on his face, "but he won't take you, too."

Sirius looked to Lily, his eyes wide. "It's all my fault, Evans, if it weren't for me-"

"Oh, stuff it, Black," she rolled her eyes, dramatically, "if it weren't for you we would never have made it this far. You've saved Jamie and me more times than I'd care to admit."

"But-"

"Oi!" the redhead insisted, pressing her lips to his forehead in a noisy kiss, "We're here; Harry's here, yeah?"

"We'll get through it, Padfoot," Remus chimed in, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Lily's ear, "together."

The man in the threadbare clothes extended his other hand to Hermione, looking expectant.

"Me?" she gasped, blinking in surprise.

"Yes, you," James said, as she took Remus' hand, with a cheeky grin on his face that exactly matched her friend's, "We'll get through it, Hermione. One day at a time."

Beside him, his wife pouted with exaggerated discontent, "Well, I'm still calling her Maya!"

And everyone knew better than to argue with Lily.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hello, my lovely readers!**

 **I am absolutely overwhelmed by the positive response to this project. It started as a personal catharsis; after I reread the series for the 800th time, I realized just how completely horrible the lot Harry got in life was.**

 **I rewrote this chapter probably 5 times completely, and I've been editing it since October, so I really hope you like it.**

 **Stay safe this holiday season and Happy New Year,**

 **Addie**

* * *

James and Lily went to bed, Sirius and Hermione stayed up, and Remus went back to his flat, thoroughly exhausted, to fetch his things.

The Marauders were stronger together than apart, so Sirius' bachelor pad was to be converted into a commune of sorts. The Potters would have a bedroom, since their house was scorched; Hermione was staying in the second spare, since time-travelling was not, apparently, an all-inclusive affair; and Remus was staying in the third room, not to be left out.

And, of course, when he considered how close he came to losing all his loved ones in one fell swoop, his instinct was to guard them with his life.

He almost lost his entire Pack. Just losing Peter was heartbreaking. A betrayal. A perversion of all the love they had given him. But the whole Pack? Unthinkable. Recovery from such a thing wasn't possible. He thought of James and Lily, dead; Harry; neglected; Sirius, presumed a traitor; and Peter, thought murdered. An abyss of grief and guilt so deep, he might drown. Such suffering was unimaginable, and yet it almost came to pass.

If not for Hermione...

Did that make her Pack? He'd met her not eight hours previous, but he could sense her devotion to them. She fought Voldemort to protect the Potters, and won. She stopped Sirius from throwing away his life.

Hermione knew his secret.

The thought of being outed, of everyone knowing his condition terrified him. People would cross the street to avoid him. Whispers and dirty looks would follow him everywhere he went. He would be a social pariah at best, a leper at worst.

But Hermione wasn't terrified. Though he had never met her before, she had known him for years, had known his secret for years. But she was kind and accepting, just as the Marauders had been at school. She knew far too much about him for comfort. She was broken, too. For Merlin's sake, she had been stifling her magic for fear of hurting her friends! And if there was ever a burden Remus understood, it was that. Hermione had scars, outer marks of vulnerability, just like him. She'd seen suffering, experienced pain, understood torture. And she was so unassuming, but inside she was completely different from everyone else. Just like him. She saved the Pack, so she was Pack.

Running to the wardrobe, Remus pulled every article from within, and filled a bag. The pile was pitiful and shabby, but it was all he owned. With a simple charm, a small sack of coins was summoned from beneath his pillow, a comb from the bathroom. He had been away for two weeks out of every month, the weeks preceding and following the full moon, so the kitchen wasn't stocked, apart from a few packs of chocolate buttons, and any documents or miscellaneous items weren't far behind. The pictures of his friends flew from various places, and were packed, as well.

It was nearly four in the morning, at this point. Dropping the bag next to the kitchen table, he quickly scrawled a note to the landlord, terminating his lease. As he scribbled his signature, the room was filled with a silvery glow for the second time that night.

 _What is it now?_ Remus complained to himself, as he watched the jet of light streak across the room to land before him.

It took the shape of a phoenix, and his blood ran cold. Its beak opened, and it spoke in the voice of Albus Dumbledore: " _The Potter family was attacked last night. James, Lily, and Harry are missing. Sirius Black has betrayed us."_

As the patronus faded, Remus hoisted the bag over his shoulder, thanking Merlin for the Featherweight Charm he had placed upon it. Rushing to the fireplace, floopowder closed in his fist, he said clearly, "Mischief Managed," and returned to Sirius' flat.

Remus spun out of the flames, just in time to catch the tail-end of a trademark Lily Evans tirade.

"-So help me I will floo to his office this minute!" she shrieked, her feet pounding as she stomped from the room to get dressed. Clearly, they had received the same message.

"This is why we put silencing charms around Harry's crib," James whispered to Hermione conspiratorially.

"That's not even sort of the reason, and you know it." Sirius, still not upset by his fugitive status in the least, waggled his eyebrows at Hermione from across the room, earning a giggle.

"You four," began Hermione with a sigh of resignation, "need to go to Hogwarts to clear Sirius' name."

"It should be a relatively easy conversation to have," Sirius bowed in the most exaggerated manner possible, as if he were a character in a Jane Austen novel, "'Good morning, sir, Voldemort's dead and I'm not a Death Eater spy. How's the budget for textbooks?'"

Remus rolled his eyes, "Okay, maybe he should stay behind."

"I resent that!" Sirius yelped in mock indignation, "And, besides, who'll watch James and Lily's backs if I stay here?"

"We'll compromise, yeah?" Remus suggested, as if offering a child one sweet instead of two, "Sirius could follow a minute or two after, so his name can be cleared before he comes strutting along."

"Oi!" Sirius cried out again, "I do _not_ strut!"

"You once transfigured the Slytherin table in the Great Hall into a runway, in the middle of dinner." James remarked helpfully, and Hermione snorted in an effort to quash a giggle.

"I model _one outfit_ , and suddenly I strut everywhere I go?"

"Actually-"

"Boys!" Lily shouted as she re-entered the room, "for Godric's sake, focus!"

"Sorry, Lily..." the Marauders chorused in unison.

"I think Maya should come with us," Lily suggested, as she jumped onto the couch and stretched her legs over James' lap, motioning to Sirius, "you're a wanted man-"

Sirius grunted in displeasure and crossed his arms.

"-and Remus is supposed to be in the bloody wilderness, so you both need to stay."

Hermione watched Lily with great interest. She could so clearly see Harry as head of the DA, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, leader of the Light when she looked at Lily. Her commanding presence, that indefinable quality that drew her audience to her, the passion in her green eyes - it was unmistakably Harry. The resemblance made Hermione's grief rush back like a riptide. How was she going to live this life, while still remembering her old one? No one else would remember Ron arriving at Hogwarts exponentially more freckled than when he left for the summer, the way Harry always gave her fingers a comforting squeeze when Professor Snape gave her a hard time, even giggling and tripping over each other underneath the cloak. She'd changed too much of the past now; there was no going back. That future was gone; the suffering was erased, but the sweeter moments were gone, too.

"Hermione?" She didn't realize she'd drifted off until she registered James' hand on her cheek, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Would you be up for that?"

Lily clapped her hands with an idea. "We should visit Poppy sometime soon - you know, to get you checked out."

"Oh," Hermione sighed, relieved, "alright, then. I like Madam Pomfrey."

"I really think she'll be better equipped to handle your case. I really can't do more than first aid and some diagnostic spells..." The redhead trailed off when she saw Hermione shift uncomfortably, and gave James a pointed look to speak up.

"So!" he obliged, "breakfast it is, yeah? I think Sirius has some treacle tart-"

"Oh, no," Sirius growled, "keep your ruddy hooves off my treacle, Potter!"

* * *

After promising Sirius he wasn't actually in hiding, making sure he wouldn't go after Peter while they were away, assuring Sirius that Remus wasn't nannying him, and convincing Remus to nanny Sirius, James, Lily, and Hermione went to Hogwarts.

They apparated to the far side of the Black Lake, just outside the Hogwarts wards, and Hermione was struck by how whole, how pristine the castle was. Gone were the broken ramparts, the buttresses turned to rubble, the blighted façade she had seen the previous day; to her, Hogwarts had been rebuilt and restored to its former glory in mere hours.

She, Lily, and James began the trek uphill, and it became clear that nothing remained of the Dark world from which Hermione came. The Forbidden Forest looked peaceful in the early morning light, but she couldn't appreciate it. The prospect of facing off against the Headmaster, a man she once respected, made her squirm. At school, she thought Dumbledore could fix anything, but she had seen too many horrible things to believe that still. Ginny dragged to the Chamber of Secrets, possessed by Voldemort, the persecution of Hagrid, the Triwizard Tournament, the battle at the Department of Mysteries, even the first attack on Hogwarts could have been prevented. Either everyone had seriously overestimated Albus Dumbledore, or his motivations were not as pure as they seemed.

Nights in the tent with Harry and Ron gave her a lot of time to consider what brought them to this point, and she didn't like her conclusions. In her opinion, Harry relied on his power too much in a duel, his techniques rough instead of finessed. His agility as a Seeker made it easy for him to dodge spells, but he was too soft on the opponents that would kill him given the opportunity. In order to fight Voldemort and win, he would need to be dauntless and deadly. And Hermione wasn't sure he was capable of that.

So it seemed Dumbledore hadn't been training Harry to fight Voldemort, but rather conditioning Harry to sacrifice himself for the cause. Harry survived, but only by accident. The years he spent isolated and unloved gave him self-esteem so low that he valued the lives of everyone else above his own.

As much as she wanted her best friend back, to hug him and never let go, Hermione knew Harry would stay if it prevented even a modicum of suffering.

"Does Professor Dumbledore know we're coming?" she asked as they crossed the castle's threshold. Lily had loaned her a pair of robes, which fit surprisingly well, but were far finer than Hermione was used to. They were a light dove grey, made of the softest wool, and were embroidered with black stars and moons. Lily helped her button the front to cover the burn on her chest, and it had sleeves to cover the scar on her forearm, but there was nothing to be done about the scar at her throat. Hermione hoped Dumbledore wouldn't notice.

Lily's fiery waves swished over her shoulders, highlighted by her sage robes. While Hermione seemed to be trying to disappear, she was determined to drag her along. Lily stomped to the marble staircase, with James following close behind, looking highly amused. It wasn't often his wife's ire was focused on anyone other than him or Sirius.

"I bloody well hope not!" Lily growled, ascending the stairs at a rapid pace, "Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise!"

The closer they got to their destination, the more nervous Hermione became. She had no identity, no explanation as to how she arrived at Godric's Hollow, and no good reason for how she was able to defeat the Dark Lord. Technically, she didn't even exist in this time.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to ponder the possible implications before they came upon the statue guarding the Headmaster's office.

"Lily - wait!" James stage-whispered, "we don't know this month's password!"

"It's usually the name of a wizarding sweet," Hermione supplied.

Apparently even the gargoyle knew better than to get in Lily Potter's way, because the second the redhead approached, the statue practically tripped over itself to step aside. Lily whirled around, and mouthed to her husband, _did you see that?!_

James looked just as bewildered, but shrugged and followed Lily up the moving spiral staircase, Hermione close behind.

"Wait," Hermione breathed, clutching her side as they approached the doors, "I think I need to stay outside."

"Are you alright, love?" Lily stopped in front of her, and ran her hands up and down Hermione's arms in a comforting gesture, for which Hermione was grateful.

Some Gryffindor she was, losing her nerve like this. But it was too much. She couldn't face Dumbledore right now, certainly not a youthful and whole Dumbledore. Not when she was barely holding herself together, when she could fall to pieces at the drop of a hat.

"If they see me, it'll derail the entire conversation. You have a lot of ground to cover, so it's best if I am introduced later." Hermione looked from Lily to James anxiously, and added, "I'll just wander about a bit."

James and Lily exchanged a look, but they both nodded. "Okay, whatever you think."

James massaged Lily's shoulders, like a coach in a boxer's corner before a fight, and they turned toward the ornate double doors. "Alright, Lils, go get 'em," he whispered. Lily pushed on both handles, flinging the doors to the side for maximum dramatic effect.

James glanced at Hermione and winked, a look of pure mischievous glee on his face, and Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself.

She was still smiling when she reached the tapestry of dancing trolls, and the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

 _I need a place to hide something..._

 _I need a place to hide something..._

 _I need a place to hide something..._

Hermione paced up and down the corridor, then slipped inside.

Turns out, people hid a lot in the next sixteen years. The room was practically empty compared to the piles upon piles that she last saw engulfed in flames.

All she needed was the diadem. Just one priceless, long-lost relic. If only she could remember where the bust was...

Hermione worked her way around the endless aisles of books; volumes big and small stacked upon protesting bookcases. She would need to sort through that, perhaps as a retirement gift to herself.

And then, she felt it.

A small twinge, in the lacerations on her arm. The cursed wounds.

Whirling, she set off at a trot, the throbbing pain shooting up her arm now, warning, _leave now, turn back._

Was this how Harry's scar felt when it hurt? It was growing quite unpleasant, now. How he hadn't clawed his forehead from his skull putting up with this was beyond her. That Evans stubbornness, no doubt.

Rounding another corner, she finally lay eyes upon it.

The Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Not to mention an object tethering Voldemort's immortal soul to earth for eventual retrieval.

Hermione was loath to touch it, really. It sparkled brilliantly in the cramped room, but there was an inherently dirty feeling bubbling up inside her that she couldn't shake, even as she steeled herself and reached for the tiara.

Heavier than she expected an object of such seemingly delicate constitution to be, it was still exquisite. She could see her reflection in the platinum, and she barely recognized herself.

Hermione had always been petite, with a naturally curvy body-type and a round face, but now her cheekbones cut a harsh angle. Her hair, once riotously curly with a mind of its own, had barely put up a fight when consigned to the bun Lily had twisted at the back of her head. Her eyes were normally bright, but now they seemed shadowy and sunken. She could have been an Azkaban escapee, her appearance was so ramshackle.

 _The Potters probably only took me in out of pity. Why would anyone trust me, especially looking like this? I look more like an alley cat than a Gryffindor lion. I'm a mess. I don't deserve their kindness. I'm absolutely worthless._

Hermione dropped the diadem with a start, and backed away from it, shaking her head to clear the fog. How long had she been in here? She turned, looking for a reflective surface, and found a copper pot, the size of a small rubbish bin. In the side of it, she examined herself. She looked tired, peaky, but not derelict, like she had seen in the diadem. It had been the horcrux.

This had been a mistake.

The bloody hell had she been thinking? She couldn't just go around, snatching up horcruxes, pretending she was just strolling through a rose garden. She was Hermione Granger. She prepared for things.

 _Think, Hermione, think,_ she implored herself, pacing and rubbing her arm, staring at the horcrux on the dusty floor, _what do you have with you? What can you use?_

" _Accio_ , mokeskin pouch!" she cried, holding her wand aloft, praying this would work.

And it did, just a little _too_ well.

A legion of mokeskin pouches, just like the one Harry would carry around his neck, swarmed above her, and she was vaguely reminded of the winged keys from her first year. The flitted around each other in a writhing mass, then suddenly untangled themselves, straightened out, and pelted her, kamikaze-style.

"Shit!" she threw her hands over her head and ducked, just in time, as the flock crashed down on her.

Obviously, her magic was a little unpredictable at the moment.

Cautiously, Hermione opened one eye to peek at the mess she had made, and exhaled in relief. While there were probably about two hundred pouches, nothing appeared to have been broken in their descent. Dusting herself off, she selected five bags, tucking four of them inside her beaded bag, keeping the fifth for the diadem.

She inched her way forward, like Crookshanks cornering a rat, picked up the tiara between her thumb and forefinger, and enclosed it in the pouch. Finally, she could exhale.

Making her way back through the stacks of discarded belongings, banned books, hidden keepsakes, broken furniture, and Rowena knows what else, she felt a twinge in her chest.

The horcrux hunt was _their_ thing. Where were Harry and Ron? Only the day before, she had been in Harry's arms, had been snogging Ron senseless in the corridor, had been fighting alongside her friends. The idea that they might not exist anymore was absolutely preposterous.

But in her heart, she felt it was true.

Her Ron, with the splinching scar, fighting to keep his family together, would never look at her the same way again. Because the circumstances that led him to her in the first place were completely shifted.

Her Harry, with the lightning scar on his forehead, fighting because he knew it was the right thing to do, would never be the same. He wouldn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore, value his life at so little he would sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat, go through life as suspicious as he once was. Because the events that formed his personality would never come to pass.

And those were good things. Before, she hadn't really considered how young James and Lily were. To be parents, to be in hiding, to be dead. But they were practically peers to Hermione. And with any luck, they would grow to be very, very, old. Sirius had his life back, his youth, his happiness. With his capabilities, the wizarding world wouldn't know what hit it. Remus had his family back. He isn't alone. He wouldn't be the impoverished, broken, grieving man Hermione could remember. Even Frank and Alice would be keeping their sanity. Hermione had assured that the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Jr. would never lay their hands on the Longbottoms.

She had taken away so much suffering, but the price, it seemed, was her old life. Hermione felt crushed. Most of all, she felt like Harry, suffering so that others could sleep soundly at night. She owed this to him. He would lay down his life for her to live, and she would lay down her's so he could be loved.

* * *

The commute back to the Headmaster's office took less time than she expected, so Hermione found herself locked in a staring contest with the gargoyle.

"Do you know if they'll be very long?" she asked the statue, with the distinct feeling that it was capable of answering.

Of course, no response. Was she going barmy? Could time travel drive someone insane? Probably.

"Avis," she whispered in her lightest voice, trying to use only a little power. She squeezed her eyes shut, just in case canaries exploded out of the tip of her wand.

Instead of the standard three canaries, she had conjured about fifteen. A few more than she bargained for; perhaps meditation would help? Gryffindor were not known for their patience, and just the thought of sitting still, doing nothing made her grit her teeth.

"—get someone to take a look at that god complex of yours!" Lil snarled from somewhere beyond the gargoyle, "It seems to be outweighing your head!"

Above, a door slammed, and the gargoyle began to spin once more, slowly revealing the hyperventilating redhead and her ecstatic husband. They descended the stairs in silence, and came to stop in front of Hermione.

James looked over his shoulder, to make sure the gargoyle had returned to its original position. "Lils, I think we need to renew our vows..."

She blinked, and shook her head to clear it, "What?"

"That up there," James swept down onto one knee in front of a bewildered Lily, "was the sexiest thing I've ever seen. If there wasn't a high chance of some kid walking by...Look, I can't even describe how hot that was, so I only have one solution - I'm going to have to marry you again."

"Oh, Jamie," she placed a hand on his cheek, looking into his eyes reverently, "Why would we do that, when I can think of so many _other_ ways you could thank me?"

The words were said so innocently, James faked a swoon, his mouth dropping open in shock, "God, woman, screaming at authority figures _and_ sexual innuendos? It's like you're trying to kill me!"

Hermione locked eyes with Lily, whose cheeks immediately pinked. "Hey, Maya!"

"Honestly, you two," Hermione wrinkled her nose, "I wish I could go back in time to unhear that."

* * *

 **At first, I had Dumbledore coming to the flat - I wrote that back in september, but it seemed too combative**

 **Then I had Lily, James, and Hermione in Dumbledore's office - that seemed wrong too**

 **Then I had Lily, James, and Hermione visit McGonagall before meeting with Dumbledore as a group**

 **Then I had Lily, James, and Hermione in Dumbledore's office while McGonagall happens to already be there**

 **Then I had Hermione go to the Hospital Wing to get help from Madam Pomfrey while Lily and James met with Dumbledore and McGonagall**

 **But I couldn't help but feel that Hermione wouldn't just leave a HORCRUX in a school full of CHILDREN, she would go for it at her first opportunity**

 **Then I had trouble with what Dumbledore would do with such a crazy wrench thrown into his system, and I couldn't come up with a scenario where Hermione was sprung on him and he didn't react badly, either attacking or something similar, which seemed too harsh, so I am leaving that meeting until a little further down the road.**

 **But yeah, so there you have it. I love writing interactions between Lily and James. :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Ask and you shall receive! Two chapters in 1 day! Who's guilty for neglecting their story? (Definitely me.)**

 **I don't know how many more chapters I can get up before I have to fly back to school again (I am a student), but this is a long one (almost 7,000 words!) so I hope this helps. I have several more chapters roughly written, but that doesn't count for much in my perfectionist freak of a mind, so I might only get to Chapter 15 before the end of the year.**

 **This chapter is a lot of dialogue, but we are still in exposition, so I guess that's to be expected.**

 **As always I love you all! And honestly, you guys crack me up with your reviews. Seriously, they kill me some of them are so funny.**

 **-Addie**

* * *

The trip back off the grounds seemed shorter than its first leg, and by the time they made it to the gates, students were making their way to the greenhouses for Herbology.

"When we get back to Sirius', you must tell us more about Harry!" Lily said brightly, "I want to know—"

"Lily," James murmured, "Snape is watching us."

Hermione whirled on the spot, and sure enough, a dark figure looked down upon them from the hillside above. She shivered, remembering the last time she had seen him, in the boathouse as he bled to death. What had Harry said? That his patronus was a doe, the same as Lily's?

"He can look all he wants," Lily sniffed, not turning around. The ginger witch did, however, take Hermione's arm in a vice-like grip, and pick up her pace. "It doesn't matter to me."

Somehow, Hermione didn't believe the redhead; it seemed to matter a great deal.

Lily hadn't struck her as the type to hold a grudge. It seemed a bit harsh to Hermione, to judge someone solely based upon their actions as a child. All this tension couldn't possibly come from a schoolyard betrayal. She felt pity toward Professor Snape in some ways, a double agent eventually killed in his position, but it was hard to view him as a fighter for either side. _He was never yours,_ Harry had told Voldemort, _he was Dumbledore's from the moment you threatened her._

The trio landed on the front steps of Sirius' apartment, and Hermione yawned, suddenly exhausted. "Let's get you a nice cuppa," Lily suggested, as if Snape had never been sighted, but Hermione could tell she was upset beneath the surface.

They climbed the walk up to the front door, James pressed the tip of his wand to the wood of the front door, and whispered, " _I solemnly swear I am up to no good."_

The door swung open, revealing the chaos within.

Seemingly every baby toy imaginable was strewn across the carpet. Alphabet blocks, some in towers, others solitary littered the floor. Plush animals, both magical and non, lay brutalized. Picture books of every kind lay open half-read. And in the middle of it all, lay Remus, soundly asleep on the couch, limbs splayed in every direction.

On the rug was a large black dog, lying on its side - Padfoot.

And tucked closely to the dog's chest was a small black puppy.

"Oh, bloody hell, not again," James brought his palm to his forehead, and whined, "Lilyyyy, it's not fair!"

"I don't understand," Hermione murmured, "where did the smaller one come from?"

"Remus, get up, honestly," Lily groaned, walking into the room and smacking the sleeping Remus upside the head, eliciting a yelp, "And Jamie, stop fucking swearing in front of Harry!"

"Sorry, Lily," James said, in the tone of a child caught by a parent, knowing better than to comment on his wife's language, "But why is he always Padfoot?"

At the sound of his name, the larger dog sat up and transformed back into Sirius Black, "I guess he just likes me better, mate."

"Quit teasing, Pads. Prongs just wants a fawn." Remus admonished Sirius, "A Prongs fawn."

"A prawn!" Sirius suggested, immediately awake, "Oh, wait. That's not right."

Remus rolled his eyes, but somehow seemed amused, "A Pronglet?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed with sincerity, "but what does that make him now? A Ladfoot? Because he's a little Padfoot? And he's a lad?"

Comprehension dawned on Hermione. The miniature Padfoot, probably no more than fifteen pounds, was Harry.

"Maybe you should stick to calling him a pup for now," James interjected, scooping up the snoozing puppy, and cradling him casually, "because you know what Ladfoot makes you, Pads?"

"What?" Sirius said, standing up and dusting himself off.

James and Remus exchanged looks and stage-whispered in unison, "Dadfoot!"

"Oh, Godric." Sirius threw his arm across his eyes, and collapsed on Lily in a dramatic swoon, groaning, "I'm too young! I have so much life left to live! Years of debauchery, still to debauch!"

"As adorable as this is," said Lily, staggering from Sirius' weight before placing a quick kiss atop his head, "I would like my son back now."

"Well how did we get him back last time?" James thought aloud, his eyes defocusing in recall.

"Last time?!" hissed Hermione, "This has happened before?"

"Just the once," Lily shrugged, busying herself with Sirius' kettle, "since it's accidental magic, a _Finite Incantatem_ should do the trick. It would be different if he were actually an animagus."

"Oh." Hermione replied, stunned.

All told, getting Harry back to normal took the same amount of time as it took the kettle to boil, but Hermione was still impressed. Sure, the enchantment wasn't very complex, but Harry had performed it on himself, with accuracy, and he was only three months old. It made Hermione wonder how much her Harry's upbringing had changed his magic. In this nurturing environment, baby Harry seemed incredibly gifted, but from Little Whinging, the outcome seemed dramatically different. It made Hermione sad, knowing that her Harry wasn't as completely free to express himself as he should have been.

"So...the verdict?" Sirius deadpanned, "Am I a traitor? The suspense is killing me."

"After some choice words of Lily's, Dumbledore acknowledges he...made a mistake," James began carefully, "and that he was too hasty to judge."

"So where's the retraction Patronus? How about an apology?" Remus glared, with nowhere to put his anger, "Why hasn't Peter been outed yet?"

"We told Dumbledore we had a lead on Wormtail, and he thought it was best not to say anything else, in case he makes a run for it."

"He would probably try to catch Sirius alone," Hermione sighed, "so until then, the buddy system will have to do."

"The buddy system?"

"I just mean we'll try and stick together," she clarified, rubbing her brow, "James and Lily should also hide out for a bit; lay low."

"Right," James nodded, "so anyway, that's when it got weird. We asked him where he was last night, and he said he was meeting a confidential informant—"

"For fuck's sake," Lily rolled her eyes, "Obviously, it was Sev."

"Does the cliff-watching have anything to do with that?" Hermione wondered, looking at Lily, "It was very...disconcerting."

"He did always have a flare for the dramatic," the redhead sighed.

"Who's to say, really," James scoffed, "Snape could out-creep an acromantula."

"Oi!" Lily scolded, "that's enough now. We don't know why Severus acts the way he does!"

"Yes, but you were friends, yes?" Hermione knew to tread carefully here; if it had been a sore subject in the future, it was almost certainly a raw one in the past, "So you must have some idea..."

Lily shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with the embroidery on her sleeve, a pained expression distorting her features, "He sent me a letter a few days ago, almost begging to meet with me, but I never wrote back. Hiding, you know."

"You didn't tell me that," James looked at his wife, confusion on his face.

"It's not like I would have met with him," said Lily defensively, "He's a bloody Death Eater now, in case you hadn't heard!"

"Lils, I may not have liked him in school," said James, eliciting an indignant snort from Remus, "but I got over that in, like, fifth year! We're supposed to be able to talk about this sort of thing."

Amber waves swirling in a wide radius, Lily threw herself at James, kissing his cheek noisily, "I'm sorry, Jamie. I just didn't know what to think when I got it..."

"Is this the first time you've heard from him since school?" asked Hermione, torn between wanting more details and not wanting to pry.

"Yes," replied the redhead, "After what happened, which I suppose you know about, I wanted nothing to do with him. He didn't understand that the way he was trying to achieve his goals, put us on opposite sides of the war. He didn't think it changed anything about him, but it wasn't something I could overlook."

She looked so sad, it almost broke Hermione's heart. Having that kind of fundamental disagreement with a close friend couldn't be easy.

James cleared his throat, signalling his desire to move on, "So Dumbledore says he was meeting with a confidential informant, and if he went to help us when we needed him, it would have blown the operation," he continued, "but he sent someone to help."

"McGonagall?" asked Remus.

"Auror Moody?" suggested Sirius.

James pinched his nose in frustration, "Dumbledore sent Hagrid."

"HAGRID USES AN UMBRELLA FOR A WAND!" Lily burst out, unable to contain herself, "WHAT USE WOULD HE BE?!"

"Harry always said Hagrid was meant to evacuate him," Hermione thought out loud, then turned pink when she came to her conclusion, "which suggests he didn't expect you to...survive."

"If we had thought it would come to blows," James said quietly, "...we would've trained night and day. We thought there was a guard rotation! Wards!"

"Not to mention, where the fuck was he evacuating Harry to?" Remus looked like he was about to cry, or maybe scream, his face pale, "In the will, it's Sirius, Frank and Alice, me..."

"Professor McGonagall was the last resort," Lily's teeth were gritted, but she still explained to Hermione, "She was best friends in school with Mrs. Potter — Dorea."

"I didn't know that," Hermione whispered, watching as James picked Harry up off the floor, leaving a singular baby sock behind.

"Dumbledore said he wouldn't have ignored our wishes for Harry," Lily continued, "but I take it he wasn't raised with Minerva? You said he was unloved, and she would — and already does — love him."

Hermione sighed, looking from James to Sirius and back to Lily nervously, "I need you to promise you won't go mental, if I tell you.

"Harry was raised by the Dursleys."

" _The Dursleys?"_ gasped Harry's mother, having clearly never considered the Dursleys to be candidates, "'As in my sister and her husband? _Petunia?!"_

Hermione nodded.

"But she hates me!" Lily protested, "They hate us! They hate _magic_."

Sirius looked thoughtful, "Is that the bloke from your wedding, Prongs? The one Padfoot pissed on?"

"Yes," James nodded, "purple walrus-looking chap."

"Jamie! Focus!" Lily snapped, "Maya, please keep going."

"They were horrible to him," Hermione stared at her lap, toying with her sleeve, "Really dreadful. They called him 'boy' instead of Harry. He often starved, he did chores while their son watched telly and bullied him. Dudley had two bedrooms, and Harry lived in the cupboard under the stairs! They told him you were drunks who were killed in a car crash! He didn't have friends until he got to Hogwarts..."

"Stop! Stop," James shouted, breathing heavily, "I need a minute."

She watched as a very confused Harry, in a blue jumper and little shorts, was hugged tightly by both his parents at once. Tentatively, Sirius and Remus joined them, until the four adults had completely engulfed the toddler. James buried his face in Harry's wild hair, and Lily kissed each of her son's fingers. "Jamie...Petunia hates me! He can't go there..."

Seeing Lily begin to panic, James said back, "We're here now; we've got a second go of it, and we'll never give him up."

Hermione could feel herself tearing up as well, watching the patchwork family comfort one another. Maybe Mrs. Weasley wouldn't mind giving her one of those legendary hugs someday, even if she would have to re-introduce herself.

Lily took a deep breath, and dragged Sirius and Remus in front of her, "Alright, listen up, you lot."

She cast them a look of great determination, shaking her finger in their faces, "Sirius, you have to promise me you will not let this eat away at you. It wasn't your fault, and you weren't responsible for that. I'm not mad, and I will never be mad.

"Remus! I swear to Circe, if you go into one of your gloomy spirals of guilt and self-loathing over this, ever, so help me I will drag you out of it by Moony's tail. Are you both clear?"

The two men nodded, still silent, and Lily smiled, "Good. I love you; Jamie loves you; Harry loves you; Hermione's only known you for half a day, but I'm sure it won't take long; let's keep going, there's some other bits you need to know. Jamie, you have the floor."

"Alright..." James said tentatively, looking up from Harry's hair, "So, we all know the Prophecy, yeah? The reason Voldemort was after us in the first place?"

Seeing everyone on the same page, he continued, "Right, so Dumbledore made it pretty clear earlier he thought Harry would have to die to defeat Voldemort, or at the very least Harry would kill him."

"He said that?" Remus gasped, "Fucking hell."

"He was really shocked when we told him that Voldemort was dead," explained Lily, "pacing, muttering, all that. When we told him that I escaped with Harry, he blew a gasket! He said some things I don't think he intended to reveal."

Sirius raised his hand, as if he were in primary school, "I have a question, then: how long were you supposed to stay in hiding? I hate to state the obvious, but he's a baby!"

"Me!" Harry shrieked in his first outburst of the day, earning smiles across the board.

"Well, he said he 'hadn't thought that far ahead,'" Lily answered, "but we all know that's shite because that's Professor Dumbledore's _whole thing._ "

"And then what happened?" prompted Hermione.

"That was the fun part," James grinned, "Basically, Lils went ballistic —"

"I provided a logical rebuttal," she corrected, but added, "just...at a high volume."

"Wow."

"Yeah, way to go, Lily."

"What about the fight?" Sirius piped up, "You give him a blow-by-blow?"

"I had to," James shrugged, "He didn't even know Voldemort was dead. The dark has gone silent, which he found odd..."

"Hagrid's a good friend," Lily remarked, "but he's not known for providing detailed reports."

"He demanded to see you," James nodded to Hermione, "Said you were dangerous, not to be trusted. We managed to hold that off until tonight, but that's the best we could do."

The blood drained from Hermione's face, and she balled her fists, "Did you tell him how I got here? Where I'm from?"

"No! We said we didn't know how you got to our house," Lily assured her, "and Jamie described the duel as an against-the-odds type fight, in which he foolishly underestimated you. Like, we _really_ undersold you to him."

"We said we thought you had escaped after being abducted by Death Eaters? For being muggleborn?" James added, the ends of his sentences coming out like questions in his nervousness.

"There are hundreds of missing muggleborn witches right now," Sirius acknowledged, "we've been tracking it at the Auror Office."

"I'll have to figure out where I went to school, then," she sighed, stretching a little, "also, and I'm just guessing here, I'm going to need a name."

"What about the other Hermione?" asked Lily, "Aren't you around here somewhere, being a toddler?"

Hermione's spine straightened, and if she had been a cartoon, a lightbulb would have appeared over her head. She jumped up, bouncing on her heels with an idea, "Lily, that's brilliant!"

"What?"

"My Mum and Dad - they would already be living here!"

"Isn't that a bad thing?" Sirius asked, "Little Hermione, coming around in nine years, looking exactly like you?"

"No - that's why it's brilliant!" she almost shouted, "I can still be a Granger! I can be my father, Daniel's, younger sister. Which is weird, and gross, but it would make sense that my grandparents sent me abroad if my brother was a muggle!"

"It would also help your case that your niece is magical, too," James nodded, "it would prove you're related."

"Where do they live?" asked Remus curiously, "Your parents, I mean."

"My grandparents on my dad's side are dead - a muggle illness killed them a few years ago," Hermione explained, "But my parents, Daniel and Emma, they live in Kingston."

"How are we supposed to hide your abilities from Dumbledore?" James asked, "They aren't bound, so he might sense you."

"I don't see a problem with him knowing how powerful I am," she shrugged, "I just don't want him knowing where I came from."

"I think we can manage that," Lily agreed, "where did you go to school, then? Homeschooling is out."

"Ilvermorny," she said quickly, "Historically, relations with the MACUSA are strained right now, so no one will want to check for the time being."

"You know a lot about Native American magical techniques," Remus observed, "which could have been learned at Hogwarts, if you lived in the library, or picked up naturally at Ilvermorny."

"That seems to cover it," James said, "I can't think of anything else we'll need to iron out for now."

"I'm absolutely knackered," Lily admitted, putting her head in her husband's lap, "could we take a break?"

"I could use a kip, myself," Remus murmured, surprising no one as he was almost completely asleep already.

"I should take care of something, first..." Hermione could feel the mokeskin pouch in her pocket, and remembered its contents. The Dark magic wouldn't seep through, since mokeskin was designed to camouflage what its owner put inside, but it was still weighing on her mind to have a horcrux around.

"You look like you need a kip more; why don't you go lie down for a bit?" Sirius helped her up, and led her down the hallway.

She vaguely wondered if this was part of his pureblood training. Personality-wise, this Sirius was more puppy-like than the one from the future. He liked to fool around, and joke, and he wasn't as brooding.

The adrenaline of finding the horcrux has worn off, and all that was left for Hermione was exhaustion.

"See you in the morning, kitten," he looked at his watch, and shrugged, "or, I suppose, the afternoon."

* * *

Sirius returned to his armchair and buried his face in his hands. This was too much. In less than a day, he: learned of the demise of the Darkest wizard in history, had been betrayed by one of his closest friends, had almost walked into a trap set by the traitor, nearly lost two of his best friends, nearly became an adoptive father, became a recently-vindicated fugitive, witnessed impossible magic performed by a strange beat-up girl, and babysat his godson.

Where do you begin to unpack that? How do you stay sane?

But then, Sirius looked up.

Remus was snoring again in the other armchair, undeterred by the macabre subject they had been discussing minutes before; James was asleep sitting up, his arms flung across the back of the sofa, drooling slightly, his glasses pushed to the top of his head; Lily had her head in James' lap, her knees thrown over the arm of the sofa, a tranquil expression on her face as Harry tangled his fingers in her hair on James' other side, the toddler sitting perfectly content next to his parents.

This was where he would find his sanity. In the people he loved most in the world.

Sirius didn't know how Hermione would fit into this, but he got the sense that she would fit. Such a peculiar girl, this Hermione. Two years younger than he, yet she had wisdom; incredibly powerful, but a fragility that seemed so close to the surface; authentic and trustworthy, all the while enigmatic and unknown.

And there was no more Voldemort to fight, only his followers to round up. Many would claim they were forced, or they were Imperiused, but Sirius would be there to argue their guilt.

Being the scion of the House of Black, Sirius had political power in abundance. He would have even more, but so far he had refused to take over for his Grandfather as Head. Now that his adoptive parents, Charlus and Dorea Potter, were dead, it seemed almost disrespectful to them to take up the Black mantle.

Dorea, James' mother, was his real mother. It was Dorea Potter who wrote him twice a week at school, came to visit him in the Hospital Wing when he was sick, sent him sweets when he got a good grade. He cried on James' mother's shoulder when he was blasted off the Black family tapestry, when he was banned from his brother's funeral.

James' father, Charlus, was, for all intents and purposes, Sirius' real father. He gave off an absent-minded-professor energy, but all of the Marauders' best pranks were perfected by Charlus. He would always detect the flaw in the plan the four boys had missed, that would make their scheme go off without a hitch. If the boys wanted to play quidditch in the backyard, he was the referee. He picked James and Sirius up at King's Cross every Christmas holiday with Dorea when Sirius couldn't go home. James was an exact replica of his father; with the black hair, hazel eyes, and glasses, there was no denying James was his son.

Sirius loved the Potters so much it hurt. Providing him with a home over the holidays, and, eventually, one year-round, was something he could never thank them enough for.

And he never would. Dorea and Charlus died from dragonpox nearly a year before.

He and James were heartbroken, but it helped that James had Lily and a five-month-old Harry to distract from the pain. In Sirius' grief, their marital bliss was like a bright light, difficult to look at.

James and Sirius has been partners as aurors, but when Harry was born James took a leave of absence. Sirius threw himself into his work as an auror. He became the best in the department, and was promoted quickly. He had decent grades in school, but it was his creativity and raw power that made him a threat.

Next to Dumbledore, Sirius was considered to be the most dangerous wizard in the war. He was knowledgeable and precise, physically agile and quick, unpredictable, and his magic was potent.

But he also missed his partner, his brother, desperately.

Lily, James, and Harry were in hiding for nine months. Sirius spent weekends with them, but it wasn't enough to keep him from loneliness.

Remus has been "traveling for work" so often, they hardly saw each other, and it was the most unnatural thing in the world. As much as James and Sirius were two halves of the same whole, Remus was the complete opposite, but perfectly balanced Sirius and James. While James had a tendency toward cockiness, and Sirius had a tendency to smartarse everyone, Remus was humble and calm. He earned the title of "World's Most Apologetic," as James sometimes put it. Godric, Remus was a good friend.

 _Moony and Lily, they will know what to do. The brains of the operation._

"Pads," he heard Remus call from the other armchair, emerging from the perpetual twilight characteristic of his transformation recovery, "I can practically _hear_ you thinking."

Sirius sighed, and wrenched his head upright to look at the threadbare werewolf. "What do I do now?"

"Now?"

"We have Death Eaters to track down, we can't just let Peter scurry off," he dropped his voice to a whisper, so as not to wake the Potters, "James and Lily and the pup need a whole new house! Should I go back to work? Can I even do that? Am I a fugitive still? I honestly can't tell anymore."

"Sirius..." Remus warned, "you're closing in on rant territory."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Sirius huffed, crossing his arms petulantly.

"Alright. I have solutions to at least two of those things," Remus rubbed his palms together, "First, we should all go and stay at Potter Manor. That solves the living situation, it's private, Hermione and Lily can fortify it, and you love it there, so maybe it'll help you, too."

Sirius tried not to wince at the thought of returning to Potter Manor, without Charlus and Dorea.

"The Peter thing might have to wait. He knows we're coming after him, so whatever hiding he's going to do, he's done already. We could put a tracking spell on his mum, but I doubt he'd be so reckless as to contact her," Remus thought for a moment, "but I'm worried about Hermione. She was really beat-up, and she's so malnourished..."

Sirius leaned forward, and asked in a low voice, "Do you think she's here to stay?"

"She'll need an identity either way," Remus hissed back, "And an airtight one. As soon as Dumbledore finds out her name, he'll be hunting around for any information he can find. We have a good cover for now, but someone's gonna have to find the Grangers at some point."

"Why?"

"Because otherwise, they won't know who she is," Remus looked annoyed, "She's not actually the long-lost sibling of Daniel Granger."

"Right..." Sirius sighed and scrubbed at his face, "James and Lily said she was muggleborn, and what with the other thing, there's no other solution."

Remus looked confused, "Wait, what other thing?"

"Because of the..." Sirius gestured to his arm, "...you know..."

All the color drained from Remus' face, "Who do you think did that to her?"

"It's a pretty short list," Sirius replied, "Dolohov, maybe. Although his specialty is cursing. Yaxley is capable, too. They're both very fundamentalist. Neither of them strike me as sadistic in that way. Either of the Lestrange brothers could have. They're very into torture these days. But unfortunately, there's only one Death Eater I can think of that's crazy enough to try that."

Remus nodded in acknowledgment, "Yeah, I was thinking the same."

"I'm not going to press her, though," Sirius said quickly, "She's too...damaged or something to ask her about it."

"Will you be going back?" Remus asked, and concern flickered behind his eyes, "To the Ministry, I mean?"

"Someone's gotta. Too many lunatics running amok, these days."

"I hate to say it, but..."

"Oh, come off it, Moony, what is it?"

"Well, I don't think James is going to go back to work. He's had enough danger for a lifetime."

"And?"

"And I think you should consider leaving the Aurors, too." Remus winced, as if he were likely to explode.

"Oh. That's what you were trying to tell me?" Sirius was taken aback, "That was pretty anticlimactic."

"So you'll do it?"

"Probably not."

"Why?!"

"Because: for better or worse I'm the best they have," he put his head in his hands, "and I ought to be able to sleep with both eyes closed at night. Come on, then, do you see that Scrimgeour idiot lasting two seconds against any of Voldemort's people?"

"If I'm being attacked, I'd rather Hagrid watch my arse than him. And that comparison's probably insulting to Hagrid."

"Political prick," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I'd probably be in a lot less danger if I had a real partner, though. Prongs is a fucking battle magic prodigy."

"He has the natural ability, the agility of a chaser," Remus considered, "but with your casting strength, you would probably beat him to a pulp."

"Any chance I can convince you to—"

"No way in hell!" Remus hissed, "I don't want to hurt anyone if I can avoid it. Besides, all that anti-werewolf shite makes me unemployable."

"Right, yeah." Sirius shifted uncomfortably, "What about Hermione?"

"Hermione has her own shite to deal with."

"Yeah, but don't you wonder who trained her? The girl's nineteen and she's a technical pro, with a frankly stupid amount of magic to back it up." The raven-haired wizard scraped his longer hair into a tiny knot on the top of his head, giving himself time to think, "She seems like more of a pacifist on principle, but Prongs said she's lethal as fuck. _Lethal as fuck, Moony!"_

"Alright, calm down," Remus sighed, "Maybe you can convince her to help you on a volunteer basis. But Pads, Hermione's magic could be really unstable. Depending on how long she had it bound for, and during what age she was suppressing it, she might be dealing with more magic than she can channel safely."

Sirius looked around, like he was worried he would be overheard, "You don't think...an obscurial?"

"Godric, I hope not! During that process, her magic would turn on her — she'd be accidentally casting everywhere, and it'd be quite painful for her. No, definitely not."

Remus looked like he was about to faint dead away. His transformation happening only two nights ago, he was normally irretrievably exhausted until he slept it off.

Taking pity on his raggedy-looking friend, Sirius faked a yawn and stretched, "Oh, merlin. I think I need a kip, myself. Would you mind if I—?"

Presented with an out, Remus was asleep before Sirius finished his sentence.

* * *

Sirius was quite chuffed with his flat, decorated in warm, cozy colors and pictures of his family. It was everything the Black ancestral home was not.

He had his hand on the doorknob, when he heard a noise.

He paused, listening.

The faintest of whimpers, coming from the guest room.

Padding back up the hall, he dimly lit his wand, and stopped in front of Hermione's door.

" _No...no, please..."_

Silently opening the door, Sirius checked the room for intruders, but found none. Hermione was alone, lying on her side, curled in the smallest ball geometrically possible. Every muscle in her body seemed clenched.

He crept over to her bedside, unsure of what to do next.

" _Please...stop..."_ she moaned, only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

"Hermione, wake up," Sirius whispered, deciding to put a hand on her shoulder, "you're having a nightmare."

" _No, stop...please!"_ she pleaded, but a sob cut her off, and her entire body trembled, tears tracing lines on her cheeks.

"You're alright now, love," he soothed, brushing her curls off her face, "no one's hurting you, kitten, it's just a dream."

He jostled her a little harder, and her eyelids fluttered open. With a squeak of surprise, she jumped away from Sirius like a live wire. Her eyes were wild, darting around the room for an escape route.

"Hermione! Hermione," Sirius held up his hands in a peaceable gesture, "It's just me. You're in the guest room."

Recognition flashed across her face when she met his gaze, chocolate brown to steely blue, but her posture didn't relax. She demanded, "What poster do you have on your wall in your room at Grimmauld Place?"

"Er, probably a blonde on a motorbike? It's a muggle poster." He chuckled, thinking of how proud his teenage self would have been to have a girl in his bedroom, as Hermione must have been to have seen his wall.

He didn't have a chance to smirk, however, as Hermione rugby-tackled him, nearly knocking him to the floor.

"Oh, thank god," she said into his shoulder, her arms around his neck, "you're real!"

"Last time I checked," he quipped, though it was a bit difficult to joke when a girl was sobbing in his arms.

She pulled back to look at him, shaking her head in awe, "I just can't get past how young you look!"

Sirius wasn't sure how to reply to that. She seemed to realize she was practically in his lap, and shifted off of him to lean against the headboard, shutting her eyes and groaning, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess."

"Do you want to chat about it?" he nudged her with his shoulder, so she could make room for him, and he sat next to her at the top of the bed.

"I'm not really sure how." She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to clear the residual feelings of the nightmare.

"Well, do you mind if I ask you?"

She nodded, and Sirius cleared his throat. "So, what was the dream about?"

Hermione sighed, and drew her knees up to her chest, "Things in ninety-eight...were really bad. Probably worse than now. The Death Eaters figured out how to put a taboo on 'Voldemort' to catch members of the Order."

He nodded, "They were working on that recently."

"Right, well Harry said it, and the snatchers, bounty hunters, captured us." She took a shaky breath, "At that point, I had been binding my magic for a couple years, so I couldn't do anything to stop it."

"You couldn't?"

"Not consciously, no," she stared at her lap, "Only one other person knew what I could do. If I hadn't been so worried about hurting someone, if I had just listened to him—"

"Oi!" Sirius cut her off, covering her hands with one of his own, "None of that, now."

She clenched her jaw, but didn't argue, "We were captured, taken to Malfoy Manor, and—"

"—Malfoy Manor?!"

"Yes," she sighed, still not looking at him, "have you been? Really immaculate chandelier, marble floors, sometimes muggleborns are tortured in the ballroom..."

"I know it," he said through gritted teeth. And he did. The Malfoys were cousins, so he had been obligated to attend events as the heir-apparent to the House of Black. He was frequently trotted about like a show-pony in his youth.

"Well, we were taken there, I couldn't defend myself, because I was using all my energy to defend Harry and Ron, so I was tortured."

"And the cuts?"

"Yes, also that," confirmed Hermione, her expression oddly detached, "But then Harry and Ron saved me, and we escaped, and it's fine!"

The last part sounded forced. Sirius looked at her pointedly, "It didn't sound like you were rescued in your dream, love."

"No, I wasn't," she paused, "rescued, I mean. The person who tortured me, they threatened to hand me over to Fenrir Greyback, and in my dream, they did."

"That disgusting, sadistic, low-life," Sirius growled, shaking his head, "absolutely psychotic _pedophile!"_

"I hate him," Hermione said, her eyes staring blankly ahead, "I hated him for what he did to Remus, and I hated her for what she did to you, but I hate them so much more now; Dumbledore says everyone can be redeemed, but he's too kind. There's no going back for either of them."

"Her?"

At Sirius' question, she gasped, and clapped a hand over her mouth, but then her shoulders sagged, in apparent capitulation.

"Oh, sod it," she threw her hands up, "Bellatrix Lestrange! You were bound to figure it out eventually."

But he didn't even look surprised. Sirius just nodded. "And what did she do to me?"

"I shouldn't have said that," moaned Hermione, hitting her head on the headboard, "I _really_ shouldn't have said that."

"Kitten, do you know what it would take for Cousin Bella to get one over on me?" Sirius smirked, "I would have to be mostly dead."

"You _were_ mostly dead," she replied, rubbing her temples, "you'd been in Azkaban for twelve years, and your magic wasn't as strong. You were broken, and because of that, she killed you."

His eyebrows went up in shock, but Sirius' default reaction had always been laughter, so he chuckled, "Merlin, that's ironic."

"Stop laughing!" Hermione slapped his shoulder, "She's a powerful witch!"

"Yeah, but I'm a very powerful wizard," he said smugly, "I'm the bastardized heir to the god-forsaken House of Black, sweetheart, and do you know what that means?"

A crease appeared between her brows, "What?"

"It means I have all their advantages," his eyes turned cold and hard, making Hermione shiver, "but none of their weaknesses."

He stretched, putting his arms behind his head in a relaxed position, but his grin had all the amiability of a wolf showing its teeth, "And kitten, I'm not just going to round up every last one of them, I'm going to make them watch while I dismantle everything they hold sacred."

* * *

 **Whoomp there it is! Finally getting into the stuff that the Marauders could have done, if they hadn't been so badly screwed over.**

 **1\. I had a GREAT time writing about the Lily/Snape thing, which is something I didn't anticipate, because I could not ship Jily harder, and I feel like this is something they would have struggled with in their relationship. Lily shines very brightly, and I think of her as a very no bullshit, genuine, but open and affectionate person. I think that in order for Lily and James to marry each other, James would have had to come to terms with his treatment of Snape, and change a bit to be worthy of Lily. As for Lily and Snape, I don't know that they can ever repair their friendship, but maybe with a more mature James (and Sirius as far away from Snape as possible) they can come to a detente of some kind. What do you think?**

 **2\. I absolutely CANNOT wait for Dumbledore to burst onto the scene. The wind'll be taken out of his sails, and he'll be angry about that for sure, but he's also so eccentric that it makes him interesting to take a crack at. Sort of if Luna Lovegood and Draco Malfoy had a kid, and then that kid was super manipulative but also really groovy.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Hello everyone! Here is chapter 15, featuring a long-awaited reunion.**

 **Much love,**

 **Addie**

* * *

" _I'm the bastardized heir to the god-forsaken House of Black, sweetheart, and do you know what that means?"_

 _A crease appeared between her brows, "What?"_

" _It means I have all their advantages," his eyes turned cold and hard, making Hermione shiver, "but none of their weaknesses."_

 _He stretched, putting his arms behind his head in a relaxed position, but his grin had all the amiability of a wolf showing its teeth, "And kitten, I'm not just going to round up every last one of them, I'm going to make them watch while I dismantle everything they hold sacred."_

"Can I help?"

A moment before, Sirius had radiated the conviction of a god, like nothing Hermione said would surprise him, but three words in, he was flabbergasted.

"What?"

"I'd like to offer my services," she said simply, looking unfazed by his disclosure of the diabolical scheme.

"Kitten, I swear, it's like you were sent here from my fantasies," he shook his head in disbelief, "You haven't been here twenty-four hours yet, and you've saved, like, eight people. Do you have any idea how dark things could have been here without you?"

"I do. It is very serendipitous, isn't it?" she gave a half-hearted chuckle, "But I would like to help you with your plan."

"I'd be an idiot not to accept." Sirius sat up, and turned so he was facing Hermione, "But it isn't a plan."

"What would you call it, then?"

"The Marauders specialize in pranks," said Sirius, and he bounded up to stand on the bed, his wand aloft, like George Washington crossing the Delaware, "and I declare it to be henceforth, a prank!"

"It seems rather lofty to be a prank," she observed, combing through her curls with her fingers, bouncing lightly as Sirius settled back on the pillows next to her.

"Making sure the Death Eaters pay for what they've done, destroying the chances of Blood Purity ever coming back into style, rebuilding society following a new dynamic, that's not the prank." Sirius explained earnestly, "The prank is you."

" _I'm_ the prank?"

"If you're really stuck here, you'll have to blend in," he continued, "And blending you in, building a new world around you, that'll be the longest prank we've pulled, love."

The grey wool robes Hermione had worn to Hogwarts had so many pearl buttons fastening the bodice, there was no hope of her figuring it out herself, so she had enlisted Lily to help. Baby Harry following closely behind, a sippy cup clutched in his fingers. In no time at all, the witch had swiftly done up the buttons with practiced ease. "It must be so strange, wearing formal robes. When I married James, I had never seen anything like these," she admitted, "I always told him I felt Shakespearean, and he had no idea what I meant!"

"I feel as though I'm straight out of a C.S. Lewis novel," Hermione agreed, "Is wizarding etiquette very stringent?"

"Thankfully, Jamie isn't much for politics," she sighed, "he swore it off when we got together. Charlus and Dorea Potter were great leaders in the Wizengamot, but when Jamie married me, pureblood society had, like, a collective aneurysm."

"Why?!" Hermione was horrified.

"Take your pick," Lily rolled her eyes, "because I'm a muggleborn, I'm too much of a hippie, I want to have a career, I'm smarter than their lazy pureblood children..."

"Did you know that would happen when you started dating him?"

"Merlin, no. If I had known just how much he was putting himself out there by chasing me like he did...all of it caused a right stir. Jamie was quite the eligible match, apparently, and I stole him with my seductress muggleborn ways!"

She wiggled her fingers at Harry, to illustrate, who giggled as he drank his apple juice, and Hermione giggled, too. With his sparkling green eyes and his shock of black hair, he was hands-down the most adorable toddler she had ever seen.

"Lily, can I ask you something?"

Harry's mother began weaving her wand through Hermione's curls, smoothing them until they fell in defined ringlets, "Anything, Maya."

"What will you do about, um, Severus?" she felt Lily pause in her ministrations for a beat, as if her heart had skipped a beat, as well.

"I need to talk to Jamie about that," Lily groaned, "I should've told him, I know, but I didn't know what to think!"

"He didn't seem upset," Hermione frowned in reflection, "did you think he would be?"

"Jamie used to be very jealous of Sev, because he was my friend and I wouldn't give him the time of day," Lily waved her wand, refilling Harry's juice, "but when I stopped speaking to Sev, Jamie quit picking fights, and really leveled out. We talked about it a lot when we were first dating. They'll never be friends, but Jamie doesn't hate him like he used to. He'd never stand in the way if I wanted to be friends with Severus again."

"And would you?" Hermione studied Lily's expression, "Want to be friends with him again?"

Lily fell back onto Hermione's bed with a dull thud, her amber waves flying in all directions. Beside her, Harry mirrored her action, landing flat on his back, too. "I think...I don't know, some closure would be nice. He's done too many horrid things now. I don't think we're the same people we were."

Lily lifted Harry onto her, so they were chest to chest. His little socks had tiny owls embroidered on them, flying against a navy blue background of sky. He rested his head in the hollow of her throat, and she stroked his hair with so much tenderness it made Hermione's throat constrict painfully. "Was he always so...?"

"Brooding? Snide? Obtuse? Absolutely," she stared into space, "but he was sharp, and wickedly funny. He could make me laugh so hard my sides hurt. And he was from home. With my sister and my parents...I wasn't sure I could leave the muggle world behind. With him, it was like I dragged a piece of it with me."

"Do you regret it? Leaving the muggle world for the wizarding one?" A question Hermione often asked herself, especially when she stared at her butchered forearm long enough. When she had learned there was such a world, filled with people just like her, she had been ecstatic. But then she got there, and she wasn't quite accepted in the magical world, either.

"My parents died in a car crash — there wasn't much to go back to, after that. Petunia hated me, because I could do so many extraordinary things, things she was jealous of, but I wasn't extraordinary enough to save them. So I left for good, married Jamie, and here I am."

They lapsed into silence, as Hermione laced up the boots she had come in, hiking boots contrasting greatly to the fine wool robes. She didn't know what to expect from her meeting with Dumbledore, but she felt it was best to be prepared for the worst. It was Harry who seemed fed up by this heavy conversation, emitting exaggerated effort sounds, little huffs and puffs, as he struggled free of Lily's embrace, clambered off, and back to his cup of juice.

—

Sirius came to stand next to Hermione in front of the hearth, waiting for their guest to arrive. He was looking relaxed, wearing black denims, a tee-shirt, and his leather jacket, in stark contrast to Hermione's traditional witch attire.

She couldn't help but worry, herself. She felt as if she were walking a fine line between proving herself and maintaining the guise of harmlessness. It needed to be believable that she could defeat Tom Riddle, but she knew if she seemed too threatening, Dumbledore would turn on her.

"Don't look so frightened! Loosen up a bit," suggested Sirius, rolling his shoulders, "we're sticking very close to the truth, here. Which is good, because you are a shite liar."

He wasn't wrong. They had built her identity over the last few hours, beginning far from the truth, and conceding inward as her unfortunate integrity had been uncovered. Any actual lies she had attempted to tell had been as believable as if she had claimed to have gotten the brand on her forearm from a quidditch accident. Pathetic. Luckily, the Marauders had come up with a backstory for her that was close enough to the truth where she wasn't necessarily lying, so her damned conscience couldn't screw it up.

"Yeah, maybe leave the speaking to a minimum," James added, handing Harry to Remus, both of whom looked sorely in need of a nap. At least the toddler was the only one drooling.

James, Lily, Hermione, and Sirius sat stiffly upon various pieces of furniture, surveying one another. Sirius looked positively bored, sprawled out on the sofa next to an unnaturally still James, and Lily was coiled tight as a bowstring in the chair next to Hermione.

All four of them started at the sound of a sharp rapping on the window.

"Oh, what now?" Sirius grumbled, sauntering over to the window to greet the raven that had appeared there. He released the catch, allowing the bird to hop onto the window sill to deliver its message, but once he read the envelope, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Evans, it's for you."

"Me?" Lily was taken aback, but held out her hand for the letter nonetheless, "Who would send me mail here?"

"Well, it's a raven, isn't it? Not an owl," observed her husband, "Ravens don't need an address to deliver a letter. But they don't return to the sender, they just end up free afterward."

"Ravens are only one-time use?" inquired Hermione, "So you send a letter and get a new raven?"

"It's considered more covert," Lily replied absently, breaking the seal on the parchment. Her green eyes scanned the letter quickly, becoming wider and wider with each line, and she clapped a hand to her mouth in, muffling her voice, "Bloody hell!"

"What?!"

"It's from Severus!" she exclaimed, clearing her throat, and beginning to read, "He says, ' _Lily — Do not gamble with your lives by staying somewhere the Headmaster can access. The Dark is in chaos. They are desperate. Find a way to disappear. Severus. P.S. — I don't know how you did it, but I am glad you did.'"_

She looked up from the letter, her lip trembled with the effort not to cry out of frustration, "What should we do?"

"This never happened in my timeline," Hermione rubbed her temples, trying to think, "but Harry said Snape stopped being a Death Eater the moment you were threatened. He asked Dumbledore to hide you, in exchange for his allegiance. Now that Voldemort is dead, and you're alive..."

Sirius nodded, "He has no obvious reason to trick us. I don't like Snape, but if we have to work with him to stay safe, I'll be his bloody best mate."

"Somehow I don't think he would accept," James cleaned his glasses on his shirt, "but I do think he's right."

"We were going to Potter Manor anyway," Lily reasoned, "let's just go tonight."

—-

At the stroke of eight exactly, the floo roared to life in a column of emerald flame, leaving Sirius' cozy sitting room awash in an eerie glow, the walls covered in dancing illumination. A metallic silhouette sprang forth from the fireplace, reminding Hermione distinctly of the life-size statues that once stood upon the fountain in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

As the fire soothed itself, the figure was revealed to be a wizard, outfitted in robes of the most vibrant copper, which made his disk-shaped hat look rather like an oversized coin. When he drew himself up to his full height, his twinkling blue eyes finding Hermione's brown, it was an effort to keep herself from gasping, for his face was not what she had expected. Free of nearly twenty years of aging, his features were noticeably less stressed, and his beard, not yet white, was trimmed to a practical length.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Sirius stepped forward, glaring at the wizard, "Thank you for inviting yourself."

The Headmaster chuckled good-naturedly, "Sirius, my boy, I am so glad you're still with us. I am terribly sorry about that horrible misunderstanding."

"You should be."

Dumbledore chuckled again, this time sounding slightly more strained. "James, Lily, good to see you again. Will you introduce me to your guest?"

Sirius stomped forward, ignoring the subtle jab, and gestured to Hermione, "Hermione, this is Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore, this is Hermione."

"Good to meet you, Headmaster," Hermione tried her best to look meek even though it was killing her to do so.

"My dear, I must say, I'm surprised," His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, "I didn't expect someone like you to be the one to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Someone like me?" Hermione cocked her head to the side, "Do you mean muggleborn? Or female?"

"Young!" Dumbledore answered jovially, "You're just younger than I thought his match would be."

There was something extremely ironic about his point, since Harry had been far younger than she when he had first intentionally defeated Lord Voldemort, and Hermione felt a very foreign urge to burst out laughing bubble in her chest. "Ah, well, sorry to disappoint."

"I have to say, tallying up our chances with our remaining people, I was becoming concerned," Dumbledore admitted, "I assumed we would need to make do with who we had."

She said nothing, staring down at her feet, which the Headmaster apparently took as an invitation to make himself at home; the bronze-colored hem of his robes glittered against the soft upholstery of the armchair he chose. The others took their cues from him, and they all settled back into their seats.

"So: how did you end up in Godric's Hollow, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked baldly, his eyes losing a little twinkle.

She thought for a beat, before answering, "I'm sorry, but I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"We believe she was being held in one of the Dark's strongholds," Sirius interrupted in his best Auror voice, "and that when she escaped and disapparated there, someone summoned Voldemort, but he was apparating into Godric's Hollow at the same time, so they somehow got tangled up...I don't know if you're familiar with the muggle theory of entanglement, so I won't go into too great detail."

"I've never been inside the cottage before, so I couldn't have just shown up there on my own," she added, as Dumbledore appeared to be pondering their completely fabricated theory.

"How long were you held for?" Dumbledore asked.

"We don't know." replied Sirius, evidently ignoring the fact that the question hadn't been aimed at him, "The other side has gone quiet, so it's impossible to tell."

"So you escaped from the clutches of unnamed captors, disapparated from an unknown location, and ended up coincidentally defeating Voldemort upon your accidental arrival?"

Hermione looked carefully at the rest of the group, "That's correct."

"Tell me about the duel."

She sighed, and looked at her hands, hoping against hope this would be convincing, Snape's warning ringing in her ears, "I woke up in a sitting room. I remember someone shouting, and James ran in, looking for his wand. He didn't see me at first. I remember the Dark Lord blowing the door open, and trying to distract him so James could get to his wand. But after that...it's...fuzzy. I threw some spells, he threw some back, I think I tossed a chair or something..."

"It was a sofa," Sirius sniffed, "an innocent sofa."

"Right. Next thing I know, I woke up with this lot," she gestured to the Marauders, "healing me and they said I killed Lord Voldemort!"

"Bloody well barbecued him, is more like it," James mumbled, earning an elbow to the ribs from Lily.

Dumbledore gave James a nod, "Yes, the report I received suggested that nearly the entire room had been scorched to black, Voldemort's remains included. Do you know how that happened?"

His piercing icy stare bored into Hermione's so harshly, she shivered slightly, an uneasy feeling unfurling in her stomach, "No, sir, I do not. Though I suspect it was me, since I'm the one still here."

The Headmaster said nothing, but continued to stare, making Hermione shift uncomfortably. For whatever reason, she found herself transfixed. She recoiled slightly, sinking further into the cushions, trying to look away, to no avail.

Then she felt it. If her mind were a chalkboard, nails were running down it. She cringed, kicking herself for not recognizing it sooner. Tears forming in her eyes, Hermione grit her teeth with effort, and ground out, "I said I didn't know, Professor. Why would I lie?"

Hermione could feel her memories being dragged forward, despite the heavy occlumency she employed against him. Memories of screaming until her throat was raw, blood — her own — spreading across the white marble floors of Malfoy Manor, the crystal chandelier dangling precariously above her, then falling in slow motion. Memories of last night, of Lily screaming upstairs, of Tom Riddle's eyes narrowing in anger. And happy memories, too. Seeing Ron's patronus for the first time, he's disgruntled at its cuteness and she giggles. Cutting Harry's hair one night, only to wake up the next morning to see his hair had evened itself out overnight. Snogging Ron in the corridor, not even caring that Harry was waiting impatiently next to them.

"That's private," she spat, tears overflowing now. She can't tell if Professor Dumbledore can see them or not, but it doesn't matter. The innocent act had been grating on her, anyway. Somewhere in the distance, Hermione can hear Sirius shouting, and shaking her shoulder roughly, but she's still locked in a staring match with the professor.

As uncomfortable as his dive into her mind had been for her, it was practically nothing compared to Dumbledore's exit. Wrenching her consciousness away from his, she doubled over, gasping for air, coughing and spluttering as if she had been drowning.

"The fuck is going on?!" Sirius shouted, his hands still on her shoulders. Hermione raised her head just in time to see Dumbledore draw his wand.

" _Incarcerous!"_ said Dumbledore, pointing his wand at Hermione. She couldn't block; she only had time to rugby-tackle Sirius and dive out of the way of the chains that soared from the tip of the Elder Wand, and she landed hard on her hip.

"Ah! Sir...I'm not your enemy!" Hermione gasped desperately, rolling to a crouch, but still clutching her hip, "You're making a mistake!"

"If you're powerful enough to kill Voldemort," Dumbledore retorted, blocking Lily and James from coming to aid Sirius and Hermione on the other side of the room, "your innocence must be verified! You can't just walk free! You must answer to a higher authority!"

She drew her wand from her sleeve, seeing Sirius do the same, "Are you crazy?! You didn't even try to kill him yourself, did you! Just left it to children!"

He shot more spells from across the room, which she immediately deflected, though she was losing ground fast. She threw up her thickest shield, buying a second or two. She looked at Sirius, "Can you get us there?"

The younger wizard nodded, backing away from Hermione to send James the same glance.

"Vigilantism can't happen here!" Dumbledore called as Hermione's shield crumbled, and he pleaded, "You must explain yourself!"

She ducked behind a chair, barely missing a stunning spell to the head, and pressed herself against the opposite wall from Sirius, hoping he would see her plan.

He did. Steel found warm brown for a split second, and that was all the confirmation he needed. At the same moment she pushed off the wall, parrying the Headmaster's blows, he ran forward, thankfully not Dumbledore's target, and dropped to a slide across the floor at high speed.

Sirius thought of his destination, and, catching Hermione around the knees, he spun them away from the flat and into darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello everyone!**

 **I wish I had a good excuse for not posting for so long, and leaving you all on a cliffhanger. Truly, I don't. However, I have finally finished my degree in Ethics and History, which is more or less completely unrelated to my writing, but still a significant accomplishment, meaning I have a bit more free time! Thank you all for your continued support, and I hope you like this next installment!**

 **Addie**

* * *

"Oof!"

"Ah!"

With a faint _pop_ , a wheeze, and a groan, the deserted cliffs of Devon were no longer deserted.

"That went quite well, I think."

"Is that so?"

"It's always awkward seeing your professors outside school, isn't it?"

Hermione rolled off of Sirius with a huff, and even in the pitch black of night she could somehow tell he was smirking. "You just had to do a stunt, didn't you?"

"Would've been much smoother if you hadn't kneed me in the throat, love," He got up, and dusted himself off, "but in my book, there are always extra points for style."

"Is your book also mostly pictures?"

They started a rocky trek forward, and it was revealed that Sirius had deliberately chosen the most painful landing spot on the planet, as it marked the border of the Potter estate. As an ancestral home, much like Hogwarts, Potter Manor could not be reached directly through apparition. So, a field and a half later, a large house was revealed to be built into the hillside.

The façade was stone, and the windows dark, but Hermione could tell immediately that this was a happy home. There were so many details of life everywhere she turned. They walked through an apple orchard leading up to the Manor that smelled sweet and crisp even on an Autumn night. She hypothesized that the trees were enchanted, since they seemed to take no issue with the craggy terrain, and, though it was now November, their limbs were heavy with fruit, without a single apple on the ground.

The garden was dark as well, but the path was marked with little stones that seemed selected especially for each spot. Statues and lawn ornaments of magical creatures and fantastic beasts, all of which had been miniaturized, watched as they drew closer to the entryway.

"Charlus and Dorea only keyed the wards to family and a couple friends," Sirius explained over his shoulder as they marched through the garden, "but after the war broke out, we got worried that someone would get grabbed and forced through the wards. With the Fidelius, you have to betray the secret willingly. That's why Lily and Prongs moved to the cottage — only Frank, Alice, and the Marauders could get in. The idea was if Frank and Alice get attacked, they go to the cottage and vice versa. Coincidentally, Peter didn't come for summers like Remus and I did."

"In my time, Frank and Alice were attacked once they let their guard down," she gazed at the heavy oak door, worry on her face, "I'm glad their wards are fixed now."

Sirius said nothing, only stared at her, like he had a million questions on the tip of his tongue. He was too kind to press the issue, choosing instead to approach the door, as he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. He placed his palm against the grain of the wood just below the brass knocker and closed his eyes, "Open sesame."

"Open _sesame?!"_

Sirius grinned at her, but said nothing. The door unlocked and swung open as if he had pushed it, and he beckoned for her to follow him across the threshold.

Hermione couldn't help but gawk as she took in her newly-illuminated surroundings. When Sirius said this was Potter Manor, she had been expecting something like the stately Longbottom Manor, or even the icy halls of Malfoy Manor.

Never had she seen such a lively home! The walls of the foyer were lined with pictures, artwork, and tapestries featuring warm and inviting colors. Random bookshelves and pieces of furniture were crammed everywhere, every shelf filled with volumes big and small, every surface cluttered with strange instruments, unknown objects, and tons of parchment, rolled and spread out. For an abandoned property, it was incredibly well preserved, with no musty or stale smell to speak of, and not so much as a single dust particle on any surface. There were coats on the rack, shoes off to the side, as though someone still called this place home. An apothecary chest of drawers with small compartments meant for ingredients stood off to the side, and when she opened a few of the drawers, she found one for miscellaneous buttons, one with loose wizarding change, another contained quills and ink, and another had owl treats resting in the bottom. As her fingers danced across the spines of books along the shelves, Sirius looked on in amusement.

"These are incredible," she breathed, speaking as though a sleeping newborn were present, "whose are they? Mr. Potter's?"

"Dorea's, actually."

"Wow," Hermione chuckled, "I feel like I should reassess my preconceptions."

"She was quite the political activist," Sirius smiled, looking around fondly, "My rotten husk of a mother absolutely hated her. Always researching a policy proposal, or preparing for a sparring match in the Sanctum with the Wizengamot. She knew magical theory, she knew social theory, economic theory. Just before she was diagnosed with Dragonpox, she was trying to convince them to abandon the goblin gold standard, because, plot twist, goblins don't like us using their gold to pay for firewhiskey..."

"What did Mr. Potter do?"

"Charlus? Frankly, not as much as Dorea, but he was constantly tinkering with all sorts of stuff, to varying degrees of success," he placed his leather jacket on the hatstand next to the door, "Obviously, he invented that hair potion, but that was mostly out of necessity, if you've seen James. Before he died, he was working with some bloke on a new potion — Bingley, or something, his name was - I don't remember now."

Despite her best efforts, her thoughts began to drift once more to the books that lined the hallway leading into Potter Manor. Curiously, they didn't seem to be arranged in any discernible way; not by title, author, subject, publication date, size, or color. On the shelf at eye level sat a hodgepodge of books; _Magical Architecture and the Maintenance of Unstable Structures, The Goblin Wars: A Holistic Approach, Me and My Grindylow, Conjured Pyrotechnics for All Occasions, The Benefits of Crystal Power, Guide to Cooking with Aging Potions, Colloquialisms and Culture of Muggle America..._

Hermione was jarred from her admiration by a sudden pop, alerting her to a third presence in the entryway. She whirled around on instinct, only to come very close to tripping over a house-elf clad in a bright blue oversized jumper.

"Master Sirius!" the elf squeaked excitedly, grinning from ear to pointy ear.

"Tingby!" Sirius exclaimed, his face lighting up, "Godric, am I glad to see you!"

Tingby, the house-elf in question, looked like Dobby — if Dobby had taken an extended vacation to a tropical island. The same tennis ball sized eyes, the same bat-wing ears, but he had a deep tan complexion that made the blue of his eyes stand out even more prominently than Dobby's.

For a moment, the little elf's eyes welled up with tears, his giant eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

The moment didn't last long.

With a great _thwack!_ Tingby took the handle of the broom he was holding, and had walloped Sirius across the shin. "You haven't been to visit!"

"Ah!" Sirius hopped up and down, rubbing his leg, "I'm sorry, Ting. Ow! What was that for?!"

"You're very rude!" Tingby scolded, a hand on his hip, somehow glowering _down_ at Sirius despite being several feet shorter than him, "We have a guest!"

"Sorry, Ting," Sirius straightened up, and gesturing to the curly-haired witch next to him, "this is our new friend, Hermione. She'll be staying with us for a while. Hermione, this is Tingby, the Potters' house-elf."

She crouched down next to the elf, whose bushy eyebrows went up in shock, and extended her hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you Tingby. How are you?"

The elf's ears went back a little, betraying his anxiety, but he quickly schooled his features to reflect the same kindness Hermione was showing him, "Very well, thank you, miss. I have been waiting a long time for visitors."

"Well, I've only seen the foyer, but if the rest of the house is anything like this, it will be the most magnificent place I've ever been," she replied sincerely, giggling a little when the little elf blushed, "I'm serious, this is amazing!"

"Nope, I'm Sirius - aah!" said Sirius from over her shoulder with a shriek as he narrowly avoided another thrashing from Tingby, "Ting, James and Lily should be along soon, and Remus is bringing —"

 _Crash!_

"TIGGY!" came a screech of delight, as the door banged open behind them, and an excited Harry barreled into the room, leading a disheveled Remus along behind him by a chubby fist. A diaper bag and a rucksack was slung over one of the werewolf's shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but smile when she turned around; Harry had everyone wrapped around his finger, physically and metaphorically.

"What the hell happened back there?" Remus gasped, a little out of breath from the walk, "I heard yelling, there was a crash, so I packed Harry up and got out."

"It's kind of a long story, mate," Sirius answered, taking the bag from Remus' shoulder, "It didn't go the way we thought it would. Nothing James and Lily can't handle, I think."

"It was my fault," replied Hermione, watching as Harry waddled over to Tingby, who was skinnier with more adult proportions than the baby, but was only a little taller, "If it weren't for me, they wouldn't have to deal with this at all—"

"If it weren't for you, they wouldn't be dealing with much of anything, now would they?" Sirius snapped, as he tried to reassure her, but it came out more abruptly than he had intended, "Let's go to the kitchen, and we can talk in there."

Tingby led the way through the hallway, to the heart of the Manor, and into a spacious kitchen with a cozy breakfast nook. It was still just as cluttered as the rest of the house, with stacks of papers littering each surface, and books open to random pages with scribbling in the margins strewn about. There were six chairs around the breakfast table, and Hermione was heartened to see one of them was a high chair for Harry.

Remus lifted Harry around the ribs, and inserted him into the baby seat, then sat down, looking exhausted. Immediately, tea appeared in front of him, and a warm sippy cup of milk appeared in front of Harry, who seemed content to sit quietly at the table with the adults.

"Either of you fancy filling me in?" Remus stirred his tea irritably, "I don't mind being the designated nanny, comes with great health benefits, but I'd like to stay informed."

Hermione stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, unsure of whether to sit down, adrenaline still running high. This was, once again, her fault, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation she was in - standing in the middle of a strange house, surrounded by younger versions of her best friend's parents' friends, and the baby version of her best friend. Tasked with protecting all of them, using power she had no clue how to control.

Yet, if she loses control, they could all be hurt, or worse.

"I wouldn't say it was our most successful meeting ever," Sirius took a seat next to the werewolf, tea appearing for him as well, "Dumbledore was never going to just accept Hermione on face value, even with James and Lily vouching for her earlier, and we should have been more prepared for how he would investigate given the chance."

"So he didn't believe what James and Lily told him?" Remus looked back and forth between Hermione and Sirius, evidently expecting a response, but all Sirius did was shrug.

"It doesn't really matter how much he actually believes," Hermione resigned herself to her circumstances, and sat down opposite Remus, a small groan of exhaustion and gratitude escaping her when her own teacup appeared, "Just what he did to find out, and whether he'll keep looking when we cross paths next."

"What do you mean 'what he did to find out'?"

"He tried to read her mind, and then he sort of attacked her when she noticed," Sirius informed him flatly, "Which was a total dick move if you ask me—"

"Is he mental?!" Remus spluttered, narrowly keeping his drink from spilling into his lap, making Harry giggle, looking back and forth between the adults, highly amused, "He's just going around attacking people who don't give him exclusive access to their entire brain? That's insane!"

"More importantly, he just decided I was a death eater, and now he's basically acting like that never happened, and I'm frankly offended-"

Hermione rolled her eyes and cut him off, "He said something like, if I'm powerful enough to kill Voldemort, I have to answer to a higher authority. At this point in my life, I'm not that interested in hearing Albus Dumbledore's side of things, but that was a bit troubling."

Remus said nothing, his hand still covering his mouth, the combination of bewilderment and his general disheveled state creating a very overwhelmed appearance to the werewolf.

Sirius sniffed indignantly, "At least we got out of there before it escalated. Incinerating Voldemort is one thing, but Dumbledore would have been more difficult to explain."

"Maybe we should have stayed," Hermione rubbed her temples irritably, "tred to work things out. Now we're basically back to the drawing board."

"Seeing as his first move was trying to bind you with magical ropes, I'm not sure we would have been able to overcome this particular ideological divide for the sake of diplomacy."

 _Bang!_

The sharp sound of the front door slamming shut made the entire group startle in unison. Even on the other side of the house, echoes of raised voices could be heard, and the floor seemed to shake with the forceful footsteps headed in the direction of the kitchen.

James's voice was the first to be truly audible, his excited tone echoing through the hallway, "— all I'm saying is, my new kink is you, yelling at authority figures while I watch."

"Really? I never would've guessed from the twenty times you've brought it up, today," Lily replied, teasing him lightly, both blissfully unaware they had an audience.

"Hear me out, okay? One of these days, we use the pensieve in the library to relive your greatest hits, and then we slip upstairs to the bedroom, turn on some Celestina to set the mood, and — oh, hey, everyone!" James turned the corner into the kitchen, to find Hermione, Sirius, Remus, and the baby sitting around the table, and immediately turned pink, "We found you! All together!"

"Are they always like this?" Hermione whispered to a snickering Sirius.

"Maya, they had a baby at age twenty," he smirked at her, "Mr. and Mrs. Potter, here, aren't known for keeping their hands to themselves."

"Oh. Right."

"WHAT HAPPENED WITH YOU AFTER WE LEFT?" Remus asked James and Lily, at a volume about twice as loud as he had been speaking previously, trying to forcefully transition into a new subject. They took seats on either side of the baby, and cups of tea appeared in front of them, "Are you okay?"

The wind seemed to leave Lily's sails, and she slumped in her seat, offering Harry a smile and a pat on the cheek, "This is all so bloody ridiculous, honestly. That's the second time _just today_ I've lost my temper with Professor Dumbledore."

"Speaking as someone who has been on the receiving end of your temper," Sirius observed, sitting back in his chair, "once should have been enough for him to adjust his attitude."

"As soon as you disapparated, Dumbledore realized he had crossed a line. Up until then, I think he sort of missed the forest for the trees, would you agree?" James explained, turning to Lily, who nodded, "I mean, for Godric's sake! Hermione, a recently tortured muggleborn managed to defeat the Dark Lord, saving us in the process, and he was focused on the fact that his precious prophecy didn't account for it! Absolutely mental!"

"Merlin, I wasn't even thinking about that stupid prophecy," Hermione groaned, burying her face in her forearms, nearly spilling her drink in the process, "Why is it always the prophecy?"

"Are you talking about that weird haiku that the crazy lady told Dumbledore a while back?" Sirius lurched forward, suddenly more interested in the conversation, "I thought the reason James and Lily went into hiding was that good ol' Voldy believed in it, not because Dumbledore thought it would actually come true."

"I don't know about now, but in my time, he followed the prophecy like it was a religion," Hermione looked back and forth between the others for confirmation, "Everything he did, it all traced back to it, setting up for it to be right. I'm not interested in following it a second time."

"Well, it seemed like the rug had really been ripped out from under him," James started again, stirring his tea, "He might still come snooping, but he won't be able to do much else. We told him to focus on the Death Eaters that are still loose, and to call if he really needs something."

"Yeah, like a set of robes that isn't visually upsetting," Lily grumbled, her arms crossed over her chest, "but honestly, enough about Dumbledore — Maya, are you alright? Whatever he was doing looked really...complicated?"

"That's pretty spot on," Hermione sighed, "I don't think he believed me, or maybe curiosity got the better of him once I wasn't forthcoming. I don't think I was supposed to notice him reading my mind, but honestly, it was...like trying to pull a quaffle through a keyhole."

Sirius winced at the imagery, and smoothed back his hair to stifle a yawn, "I hate to admit it, then, but Snape was right. He wasn't to be trusted. Did he see anything?"

"Just how I got, you know, this," she gestured to her left forearm to indicate the slash marks there, ignoring the extremely obvious exchange of looks from the others, "I think I managed to block him out of anywhere else."

"The very last thing we need is for Professor Dumbledore to know about the future," Lily said, her voice deadly calm, but her expression telling a different story, "It's bad enough that he knows about the present."

"Excuse my language, but fuck him," Remus said, "do we need the Headmaster to do - whatever it is that Hermione still needs to do?"

Lily scoffed loudly, "After all he's done wrong, he shouldn't be Headmaster of Honeydukes!"

James shook his head, "I wouldn't want to see Honeydukes mismanaged like that. Tragic to watch, that would be."

"Mundungus would be a better Head than him at the moment," Lily shot back, the banter seeming to cool her temper down, "and that's honestly selling Dung short."

"Moaning Myrtle would probably reform the disciplinary system," Remus contributed dryly.

"Please, at this point we could honestly stage a coup and install the giant squid, and it would be better," Sirius added, joining the discussion.

"Or what if we put that book from the Restricted Section that just screams when you open it in charge?" James cupped his chin in mock consideration.

"I feel that would still be an improvement," Lily replied, considerably less upset, now, "but we can discuss regime change later."

They lapsed into silence, as Tingby placed a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table

"Hey, Maya?" Lily turned to Hermione, and so did the others. Suddenly, all eyes were on her, "What is it you still have to do?"

No matter how friendly and welcoming the Marauders had been since Hermione got there, she couldn't shake the feeling of homesickness. She wanted Harry and Ron, she wanted her parents, she wanted her life back.

But the people in front of her were full of life and hope. Lily and James were alive in front of her, though they had been long dead before. Remus was young and healthy, Sirius's eyes sparkled with interest. And she knew that to have her old life back, all of them would be destroyed in the process.

She sighed, and took a long gulp of tea, looking at each of them around the table.

"Have you ever heard of horcruxes?"

* * *

 **Next up, we'll examine Lily and Snape's relationship, and it won't be what you think.**

 **Addie**


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello everyone!**

 **I'm trying to be slightly more consistent about uploading, but really who are we kidding here. So this could be the last upload for the month. Just to give everyone a heads up, there is a little bit of alcoholism in this chapter, but we are keeping it T-rated!**

 **I don't really understand everyone's obsession with Severus Snape as a character in general, but honestly, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and I decided to include him more than I originally planned because of it.**

 **Let me know who your favorite characters to be included are! I'm interested.**

 **Addie**

* * *

Cokeworth was grey. It was cloudy, spitting rain, and everything was grey.

The only spot of not-grey in the Cokeworth landscape was the deep fiery color of Lily Potter's hair. In the damp, her normally sleek waves curled tighter, as if trying to brace themselves against the dismal weather, creating a waterfall of auburn down her back, as she couldn't be bothered to pull up her hood. She shivered slightly in the downpour, and huddled closer to Hermione for warmth.

As they turned down Spinner's End, the redhead indicated their destination: a small and unremarkable house on an unremarkable street, which left Hermione in disbelief that someone as vibrant as Lily came from a place this ordinary. All the same, it was their port in the storm. As they hurried through the generic door, she found herself wondering whether the Dursleys' house on Privet Drive would be considered more extravagant than this.

She dropped her hood and shook her head lightly, hoping to dislodge some of the stray droplets from her hair, which had luckily been pulled into a knot. She sniffed a little, though the only smell she could detect was the result of poor air circulation. No one had been here in a while.

Her last several days had been spent in the Potter library with Remus, Sirius, and either James or Lily (depending on Harry's activities) researching horcruxes once again. Tingby had been unexpectedly helpful, because unlike many house-elves, he could read, and had read more than half of the entire library.

Unfortunately, the House of Potter was historically Grey magic, which made the selection of materials as Dark as the kind they were seeking quite slim. They had agreed as a group to keep the Ravenclaw Diadem where it was for the time being, but they locked it in the armory (which was something Potter Manor had) so no one need be in close proximity to it.

After Hermione had described the extensive list of objects that still preserved Voldemort's soul on earth, Lily had written to a young Professor Snape:

 _We are still in hiding. At noon on the 3rd of November, I will be at my parents' old house. If you have something to say, come alone, and tell no one. Lily._

Tingby had volunteered to deliver it personally and to bring back a response. The elf insisted that he be allowed to "lightly concuss" the Potions Master should he refuse the meeting, and no one wanted to argue.

Thankfully, the answer was yes, Snape remained unharmed, and the meeting was set.

"If I know him, he's probably been watching the house since I sent that letter," Lily rolled her eyes and untied her jacket, now slick with the misty rain, "so he'll be along."

Hermione watched as Lily waved her wand and the sheets flew off the furniture, revealing worn upholstery underneath, and the fire lit itself. Coming from the kitchen, the sound of a tea kettle emerging from a cupboard to heat on the stove could be heard.

"You've just kept your house like this?" Hermione asked, a little surprised, "With no one living in it?"

"I offered it as an Order safe house, but no one would take it," Lily sighed, throwing her coat to the corner and sitting down in the little parlor, "said it wasn't a convenient location. And Tuney married _Vernon_ , I married Jamie, and Mum and Dad died in the car wreck three years ago. I still haven't figured out what to do with it. What about you? What did you do with your house?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, her nervous energy screeching to a halt to give way to something undefined, "My parents — I Obliviated them and sent them away when the war broke out. Perhaps they sold it. Now I suppose they're living there again."

Lily looked like she regretted asking, but took Hermione's hand anyway, "You saved them."

The younger witch was expressionless, staring at the clock on the mantle, which read a few minutes before noon, "He'll be here soon."

They sipped their tea and listened to the rain patter on the roof, and Hermione was amazed by how relaxed Lily was. She doubted there was ever a situation that could throw Lily Potter off her game once she had a goal. The past few days they had spent planning, giving Hermione a closer look at Lily's brilliant abilities. Frankly, she was surprised a young Miss Evans hadn't completely stumped the Sorting Hat.

Harry's mother had no shortage of bravery, but she wasn't foolhardy or impulsive, as Gryffindor's reputation suggests. She really could have been a Hufflepuff, because all her courage was fundamentally selfless. She would fight until the very end for others, without a thought devoted to fighting for herself. In fact, it was in self-defense where she was most timid. If you aren't acting with regard to yourself in the first place, the personal opinions of others, save a select few, aren't of any consequence.

That's what made James so good for her. His unwavering admiration of her forced Lily to take compliments, and her subtler brand of affection kept him grounded in return.

Lily did have that Gryffindor temper, however. She was something of a loose canon, and with her calculating, quick wit — which could've, coincidentally, made her a very good Slytherin — she could cut to the chase with a single silver-tongued remark (Hermione had concluded quickly that the 'No-Need-To-Call-Me-Sir-Professor' trait _was_ genetic after all). She refused to take the Marauders and their outlandish antics seriously, making her the perfect person to diffuse their more chaotic tendencies.

A soft knock at the door pulled Hermione from her reverie. Lily shot Hermione a look, and dragged herself reluctantly to her feet to answer it, pulling on the handle to reveal a tall, dark figure that could only be one person.

 _Jesus Christ,_ Hermione thought, surveying him from across the room, _he's so...young._

He looked like he couldn't grow a mustache if he tried. The planes of his face were relaxed and smooth, his obsidian hair was not quite so lank. She had expected Snape to carry himself with his usual snide confidence, but she could find no trace of that. Instead, he had a desperate demeanor with anxious undertones, giving him the air of a rather frightened bat, hovering in the doorway.

It was almost as if the Snape from her time had been the empty husk, and before her was a version of Snape that was still intact. The Snape of her time was probably closer to the Bloody Baron than to the young man standing in the threshold. With some shock, Hermione realized his coal-black eyes weren't fathomless anymore, but glittered with raw emotion close to the surface.

"Lily," he breathed, as if speaking louder would make her disappear, pure relief written all over him.

"Me." Lily said flatly, and she opened the door wider, indicating that he should step through it, "You'd better come in."

He began to cross the threshold, but his eyes quickly fell to Hermione, standing in the middle of the room. In a blur of obsidian fabric, his wand was up and leveled at her heart.

She made no move to defend herself, though her hand twitched toward her pocket for her wand. In her mind, she played a mantra on a loop, and tried to focus on the feeling of curling her socks into the shag carpeting. If she listened closely, she could hear a clock ticking in the next room. _You have every right to be here. You're doing nothing wrong. Just breathe, focus on breathing. You can control your reaction. If you don't get upset, you won't be part of the problem._

"You said we'd be alone," he hissed, his attention unwavering.

Lily slammed the front door, and stalked right through his line of fire, sitting back down, appearing to barely notice the outstretched wand, "I said _you_ should come alone, Sev. In case you've forgotten, you joined a supremacist cult."

Snape looked positively murderous. An expression like his would have chilled Hermione to the bone as a child, but being on a level playing field gave her the confidence to return the glare. "Is that really necessary?"

"Until you explain who you are," he shot back, the tip of his wand steady, "and I'm satisfied with your answer, yes."

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Lily flopped back down on the sofa, crossing her arms, "This is Hermione. I wouldn't put it beyond the boys to curse you on sight, so she came instead."

"I would never—" he began, incredulously.

"It's not about you," she bit back, her tone clipped with annoyance, "It's the rest of your little nazi gobstones team!"

He gulped audibly, but kept his eyes fixed upon Hermione, "So, she works for Dumbledore, then?"

Hermione looked back at him with what she hoped was a neutral expression, aware that she hadn't reacted normally to being held at wandpoint. She didn't assume a defensive stance, and her wand remained in her pocket untouched. Her brown eyes glinted when she wrinkled her nose, tilting her head to the side, "I don't take anyone's _orders_ , much less Dumbledore's."

"Oh?" Snape sneered, "Then why are you... _here?"_

There had been a time when the menacing curl of his lip was enough to make her blood go cold, but today it lacked the same weight. In fact, today it was downright irritating.

"I happened to be in the area."

His wand remaining poised to strike, Snape's attention was definitely piqued. The muscle in his jaw clenched and unclenched, betraying his interest, but he remained silent, as if goading her to reveal more than she intended.

It was a strange situation, as she worked to keep her cool and maintain control of her magic, and he postured to seem more menacing. Even stranger, they could both see through the façade of the other, yet continued their mutual deception.

"I thought you came to talk to me?" Lily clicked her fingers to spur Snape into action, "You'll just have to do without Hermione's life story, and speak, Sev."

With a sigh, he surrendered the upper hand, lowering his wand but not going so far as stowing it in his robes. Offering no apologies and swinging his traveling cloak over the coat rack, he stalked past the two witches into the house and stood by the fire, the optimal vantage point from which one could see each of the room's entryways. His blank, compartmentalized expression made the angular planes of his face more noticeable.

"First, I am... _glad_ you're alright. You..." Snape paused as though his words tasted bitter in his mouth, " _and_ your family."

She blinked for a moment, having never imagined he would begin on such a note. "Um...thanks, Sev. I appreciate that."

"I did... _everything_ I could. To throw wrenches in the system. But the effort to find you was... _expansive_. I knew it was only a matter of time until they found you. I can't believe you stayed hidden for that long."

"Dumbledore suggested how to do it," Lily replied matter-of-factly, "Eventually, we made a mistake."

"If you don't mind my asking," Snape raked a hand through his hair, "Where did you go wrong?"

She stared at her lap, her hands clasped formally, though Hermione saw her knuckles turn white, "Trusted the wrong person, as it were. Peter. And gave the Headmaster too much rope. Let our guard down."

"That useless sycophant," he spat in disgust, "I tried to identify the spy, but he only interacted with the Dark Lord himself. I never would have guessed Pettigrew. To be fair, it seemed like he would follow your husband around until the end of time, so I can see why you chose him. Are you tracking him?"

"We have a strong lead on where he'll be in a few days."

"Good. You didn't have extra security? No other defenses?"

Lily shook her head, oddly detached from the retelling of that night, "Like I said, we gave the Headmaster too much rope. We had an escape plan, but it was...weak. If it hadn't been for Hermione showing up..."

"If it hadn't..." The close call of the Potters losing their lives that night hung heavy in the room. Snape's spine went ramrod straight, his attention brought back to the curly-haired witch, staring daggers at her from the fireplace, "It was you? You defeated the Dark Lord?"

Hermione wasn't particularly thrilled to be the object of scrutiny once more, but held his gaze steadily, "I was in the right place at the right time."

"I'm going to need more proof if you expect me to believe that load," he snapped, crossing his arms defiantly.

"Well, tough," she snapped back, "I don't owe you any proof."

"Speaking of proof," Lily interrupted, before he could form a retort, "Care to explain why you sent your letters, Snape?"

He winced at the formality, but recovered quickly to look between the two witches in front of him, his eyes lingering on Hermione. He took in her wartorn appearance — muggle hiking boots, sturdy trousers with reinforced fabric at the knees she shrunk to fit her after borrowing them from Sirius, a thick belt, and a plain black t-shirt. Hermione was slight, and physically nonthreatening, but there was a scrappy energy to her that made him think twice about challenging her. He paused at an angry-looking slash-mark running straight across her windpipe.

Looking Hermione dead in the eye, he replied, "I had hoped it was obvious. I've come to offer my services."

"Really," Lily's tone was disaffected, but her lips twitched at the corner in a disbelieving smirk, "and why would we want your help?"

"Because!" Exasperation seemed to get the better of Snape, and he threw his hands in the air, the rest of his words spilling out of his mouth in a rush, "I have no other loyalties. I turned to Dumbledore, like, practically the exact instant you were threatened, didn't I? I _begged_ him to help you hide. On the _ground_. And what did he do? He _used you_ as _bait_. The Light failed me, the Dark owes me nothing. The only person I don't absolutely hate with, like, the fire of a thousand suns is you."

"Gee, thanks," Lily rolled her eyes, clearly not interested in restraining her reactions.

"My cover hasn't been blown, so I might be able to help you find the real bad guys. I have a potions lab at my disposal. Also," his eyes almost glimmered in morbid fascination as they came to rest upon the slash at Hermione's neck once more, "I can tell you've been cursed."

Lily immediately drew her wand, stepping between her oldest friend and her newest, ready to defend Hermione. The room was silent for a beat, save the crackling of the fire. The meeting had been a powder keg from the beginning, just waiting for a spark to set it off, and here was the sticking point.

But Hermione stuck out an arm, signalling her to wait, "How?"

Snape smiled, as this was definitely the reaction he desired, "One doesn't spend four years on a nazi gobstones team without seeing a fair amount of curse damage. You look ready to jump out of your skin, so you're either a crackhead or you were cursed relatively recently."

Once she was confident Lily wouldn't decapitate Severus on the spot, Hermione withdrew her arm, opting instead to cross them against her chest stubbornly. "What's it to you?"

"The Dark Lord was fond of curses. I began studying their effects on the body —" Almost luxuriating in her reaction at this point, he knew he had her dead to rights when she clapped a hand to her neck at his words, "—purely to heal myself, of course. I've developed treatments you won't find at St. Mungo's."

"And you think that you can treat this condition you think I have?" Hermione was skeptical, and a little unnerved at Snape's Cheshire cat-esque grin, "What's in it for you?"

"If there's one thing I know how to do, it is to make myself invaluable," his expression softened minutely, and he turned to Lily, "and I've made some bad choices, but I'm not a bad person."

"You are what you repeatedly do," Lily pointed out, eyebrows raised.

"Thank you, Aristotle," Snape rolled his eyes, "but seriously, my day job is teaching children. This has to be at least slightly more interesting than them. When were you cursed?"

"About two, two and a half months ago?" Hermione answered, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Have you been evaluated by a cursebreaker?"

"Not since just after it happened," she replied, thinking Shell Cottage seemed like a lifetime ago. And, she supposed, it was.

"And I assume you've had your fair share of residual effects since then?"

"Um—"

"We'll have to continue this another time," Lily cut in brusquely, sidestepping Hermione and throwing on her raincoat, breaking any control Snape appeared to have over the conversation. It appeared the redhead was circling the wagons. "Sirius is heading up the apprehension efforts, so summon Tingby if you need to reach us."

He blinked, a little disoriented by Lily moving to close the conversation so suddenly, "You'll...let me help?"

"We need all the help we can get. I could always tell when you're lying, and you aren't lying now, therefore, someone will be in touch." She paused, her green eyes softened slightly, and she added, "Just...stay safe."

"A tall order, given the state of things," Snape said a little wistfully before turning to Hermione, "If the...symptoms...get to be too much..."

All Hermione could bring herself to do was nod, while she briefly considered Obliviating him and calling it a day. It was probably a great stretch for Snape to extend that offer to her, but she was too unnerved by his diagnostic accuracy to do much more. She wasn't interested whatsoever in being that vulnerable with, or indebted to, Severus Snape, and she doubted his help would come free.

She took a long look at his face, attempting to reconcile her dead Potions professor with the very alive Severus Snape standing before her. Never to experience the immense guilt and personal loss that her Snape did, he didn't seem cruel and hateful, even if he was still a little intimidating and a lot annoying. She could almost see why Lily and Severus had been friends. They balanced each other out. Lily wore her heart on her sleeve, and you could always tell how she felt (mostly because she'd inform you), while Severus was as impassive as solid rock. Severus was cunning and skeptical, where Lily was trusting. Lily was all fire, beautiful and chaotic, and Severus was ice, sharp and chiseled. Hermione always held more respect for him than Harry or Ron did, but she never really liked him, not after the way he treated her friends.

And here she was, pitying him.

As he threw on his traveling cloak, he looked adrift. And that was something Hermione could understand. What was his purpose? Would he occupy the same space he had in her time? Would he cut the same spiteful silhouette?

Was there some untapped potential here for him?

Only time would tell.

He marched out of the house without a second look, and promptly vanished down a side alley in the gloomy afternoon. In the silence of Lily's childhood home, Hermione could have sworn she heard a particularly forceful _pop_ of disapparition.

"Jesus Christ, I need a drink," the redhead huffed, her still-damp hair slapping against the back of her coat, "fancy a pint?"

Hermione nodded vigorously, attempting to shake off lingering unrest, "Does Cokeworth have a pub?"

With a flourish of Lily's wand, the tea set vanished, the fire went out with a puff, and all the furniture coverings were set to rights. "I know a place."

* * *

"It's actually called _The Vermillion Minotaur?"_

Hermione stared at the thatched roof and stone façade of the tavern, wondering if Lily had somehow taken her to Narnia by mistake. They had disapparated from the former Evans home on Spinner's End, only to arrive in a narrow alley facing an establishment that made the Hog's Head seem respectable by comparison.

"You didn't think the Leaky Cauldron was the only wizarding tavern in England, did you?" Lily marched toward the door with purpose, motioning for Hermione to follow, "This one's nice when anonymity is required. They only employ people passing through, so you never see the same barman twice."

As Hermione stepped through the door, she found the inside to be quite different than the view from the street. The space was dimly lit by fairy lights, and quite narrow to boot, but the small room was packed to bursting with customers. Trays of steaming food floated to their destinations, distributing tureens of soup, platters of meat pies, and tall mugs of ale to grateful patrons. She supposed the enchantments were for the best, as navigating the intimate space would have been next to impossible for a waiter.

However, it was the occupants of the pub that most interested her — never had she seen a business that catered to a more diverse crowd. The barstools were varying heights and sizes to accommodate the menagerie of guests sitting upon them, from downtrodden-looking wizards to haggling goblins to what looked to be a badger — just a regular badger — chatting up a giggling group of witches in the corner.

"Hermione? A pint of ale alright?" Lily asked before turning to the barkeep, a middle aged wizard with floppy blonde hair and a full beard, "Two ales and some chips, please."

"Coming righ' up, luv," he responded, scribbling the order down with a quill to hang in the kitchen window, "sit wherever you please."

She was still taking in her surroundings when the smell of freshly fried chips reached her nose, and a mug of ale was set down in front of her. With an exploratory sip, she found it to be pleasantly spiced and soothingly aromatic given her overall apprehension. It was exactly the comfort she needed right then.

But Lily was the one who needed comforting most.

She looked as if a slight breeze would blow her over, the circles under her eyes dark, making Hermione wonder when she and James had last slept soundly. In the company of the Marauders, it was easy to joke the stresses of the day away, but this was the first time they had been away from the pack, and that came with a steep drop in distractions.

Harry's mother's pragmatic, can-do exterior appeared ready to shatter at the slightest touch. All the bravado she had mustered to speak to Severus had left her now, and she scrubbed at her face in an attempt to shake off any stress-induced exhaustion.

"Lily..." Hermione began in a soft voice, "...are you alright? Do you...want to talk about it?"

The redhaired witch sighed, shaking her head, unsure what to think, "It was so strange seeing him today. And now that I know he was spying for us, all because I was nice to him as a kid...what is that all about?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully.

"I wish I could just write him off as evil, because that would be simpler. But I can't. What do you think? Am I giving him too much credit?"

"I think you've both got to make an effort for it to be fair. If you're doing all the work to mend things, it isn't fair to you."

"What was he like in your time? Did he make an effort then?"

Hermione glanced at the ceiling, like the answer would be written up there, "In my time, he was...terrible...to all of his students, but he especially had it out for Harry. And any chance he got to take Sirius or Remus down a peg, he took. Based on what Harry said, he probably blamed James for marrying you and putting you in danger, and he saw Harry as the reason you were killed—"

"So help me, I will kick his arse if he so much as looks at any of them wrong," came the grumble from the other side of the table, as Lily stared into her drink petulantly.

"I think he's been exploited a lot by our side, and he's also been helpful, even if his motivations were selfish. At the same time, though, he would have been complicit in a lot of bigotry in order to get where he is, and I think he's ignored a lot of horror for personal gain," she hesitated before saying more, briefly worried her point wouldn't be the answer the other witch was hoping for, "He idolized you, and used your death to fuel his darkness. Do I think he's completely evil? Of course not. But I'll need more information before I could say he's worth redeeming or being friendly with again."

As Hermione watched, the other girl's shoulders sagged, betraying slight disappointment, and she felt a pang of regret that she couldn't give her new friend a more satisfying answer. "As long as I'm around, none of that will happen. If he wants to be my friend again, he'll have to do some serious spring cleaning and actually earn it."

Hermione nodded, still preoccupied by the enigma that was Severus Snape. Harry had said Snape loved Lily, but she hadn't seen anything romantic in his behavior at all. "Dumbledore would say everyone is redeemable."

"Fat lot of good it did Sirius, rotting in prison for, like, a decade."

"Touché."

Lily raised her mug to Hermione's in a toast, "Maybe I'll create a path to friendship, so to speak, but it will be a hell of a hike."

"I'll drink to that."

* * *

James Potter was picking at his nails. Again.

After nine months of isolation, with only Lily, Harry, and the occasional visit from Remus or Sirius, not having Lily within arm's length was nerve-wracking.

He wasn't nervous about her going to see Snape. Not with Hermione in tow. He was worried because Lily had a Severus Snape-shaped blind spot with a propensity for emotional vulnerability. And he didn't trust Snape not to exploit her with it.

It was true he had been a right prick all those years ago — a swaggering bully. It was only fair that Lily had hated him. He was privileged, and arrogant.

Everyone thought he had changed for Lily. But they were wrong.

He changed for Sirius.

That day, barely a week after they had finished their fifth year, when Sirius had appeared on the doorstep of Potter Manor, an orphan, homeless, beaten, and dripping wet from the rain, he had made up his mind to be better. Sirius became his brother, and he made a promise to himself that he would be the best brother ever. He would fill Sirius' life with the positivity and acceptance he needed, and the love he deserved. They would have fun, but not at the expense of others. They would make trouble, but only the good kind.

When they returned to Hogwarts for their sixth year, they were new people. Socially conscious, morally upright, considerate, kind. The Marauders did their revising as a group, and invited other students to join them if they were alone. The Marauders no longer wolf whistled and catcalled girls in the corridor, in fact they made an effort to call out the boys that did. The Marauders still hosted parties in the common room, but they were no longer debauched affairs that always ended with McGonagall breaking them up. Instead, everyone left smiling.

In time, their new lease on life stopped attracting trouble, and started attracting the classmates they used to repel. Namely, Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, Alice, Frank, and Lily.

James would always feel badly that he hadn't been there in fifth year for Lily when the rift between her and Severus widened beyond repair. She cried her eyes out for weeks, and Snape slept outside the portrait hole.

At the time, he had been too self-absorbed to really notice what was happening, but he was vaguely aware that she eventually stopped crying, and he stopped sleeping in the corridor.

He and Lily began to tolerate each other by the end of sixth year. They studied together with their larger friend group, and she eventually told him what a jerk he had been for all those years when she knew he was ready to hear about it. And he took what she said to heart. They traded letters over that summer. He told her about his efforts to be a good brother to Sirius, and she told him what he had been doing wrong, and what to do to make it right.

He changed for Sirius, but he couldn't have done it without Lily.

He hadn't been there for her during the original split from Snape, but he wanted to be there now.

Only Lily could go and see what Snape wanted. It was necessary. It didn't mean she wouldn't come back devastated.

In reality, he had to go get her.

 _"_ _Hi, um, James. Er, this is Hermione. Lily and I are at the Vermillion Minotaur right now, and she's not really in any condition to apparate," the glowing otter patronus said when it landed in the parlor, "and, um, I would apparate us back but my magic is a little unreliable, so I was hoping you could come get us? Again, um, we're at the Vermillion Minotaur. Sorry for the trouble."_

James entered the tavern from the street, and immediately set eyes on the red of Lily's hair. As long as it was, almost waist-length, and wavy, with a high tangle rate, it stood out like an auburn lion's mane. Over her shoulder, he could see Hermione's relief at the sight of him.

"Hello, ladies," James said, walking up to their table, "did someone call for a chaperone?"

"Jamie!" Lily launched herself at him, throwing her arms around his neck, "I'm so glad you're here! Maya, isn't it wonderful he's here?"

"Thank you," Hermione mouthed from behind her back, putting on her coat. The curly haired witch looked exhausted, and it wasn't difficult for James to figure out why — Lily was very drunk.

"Ready to go?" James detached Lily's arms from around his neck, and plucked her coat off the back of her chair, offering it to her, "It's almost suppertime."

They left the Vermillion Minotaur the way they had come, and stepped out onto the street to disapparate—

—And landed on the edge of the Potter Manor property. Immediately, Lily ran ahead of James and Hermione, who were left to stroll back to the house at their own pace.

"She might vomit if she keeps running like that," Hermione said, concern in her voice.

"She was going to, anyway," James sighed, running his hand through his hair, "Lily only drinks if she's upset, and she really can't hold her liquor."

"Are you angry?"

"With you? Of course not. You're not drunk, are you?"

"No. With her."

"Oh. Yeah, I'm a bit miffed."

"I think that things went pretty well today, all things considered," Hermione offered him a small smile, "but I'll let her tell you that."

He found her in their bedroom, watching Harry sleep. After all they had been through, it was hard to have him sleep in his own room, and they opted to drag the playpen into theirs.

James was so relieved to be alive, he almost couldn't bring himself to be upset with Lily. Not when all he wanted to do was hold her close and smell her hair and listen to her breathe next to him. But he had to say something. It was dangerous out there, with Merlin knows how many death eaters still out and about. And being drunk in public, unable to apparate back home, letting her guard down like that, was just bad judgement.

She was crying softly, hugging herself on the edge of their bed, and he could see the tears on her cheeks as he drew closer. With a wave of his wand, he put a silencing charm around Harry's playpen, so as not to wake him, and tugged her into his arms.

"Darling," he said gently, "you know what I'm going to say, right?"

"It was stupid of me, I know that," Lily sniffed, wiping a stray tear off her cheek, "Constant vigilance."

"I was going to say, if you're going to drink, at least drink butterbeer or firewhiskey, you know I hate ale," he teased her, earning a chuckle and another small sniff, "do you want to tell me about it?"

"Should we have done more to protect Harry?" Lily said in a small voice, lying back on the bed next to him, "I feel so...guilty."

James collapsed on the duvet next to her, and stared up at the ceiling, "Me too. I just...never thought that Peter would give us up, you know?"

"Yeah."

"What did Snape have to say for himself?"

"I think he just wanted to, like, lay eyes on me. He said he tried to find the spy, but Peter only spoke directly with Voldemort. He offered to help us," Lily hesitated, having not fully absorbed the last piece of information, "He said he begged Dumbledore. On his knees. To hide us."

James said nothing, but the sudden tension in his muscles gave away his discomfort. He knew Lily was more than special, more than unique, the type of person you would kill for, die for, go to war for — hell, he'd done two, almost three of those things, already. But he couldn't stop himself from feeling something when presented with the image of someone else prostrating themselves before Dumbledore for his wife. He felt...insecure. And he didn't like it.

Lily sat up on one elbow to get a better look at him. "Jamie?"

"Sorry," James squeezed his eyes shut to avoid seeing the way she was looking at him, "I'm trying not to feel strange about that."

"It's alright if you do," she said, lying back again with a sigh, "But...thank you. For being okay about it. It...helped me. To see him today."

"Darling, have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Yes, at least six times already today. But it's still nice to hear," Lily giggled, giving him a peck on the cheek, "I love you, too."

"You want to maybe...go find a guest room?"

"You are absolutely insufferable."

* * *

 **I think it's important to develop Lily as her own character. I love writing about her and James.**

 **I like doing this sort of vignette style of writing, otherwise it could get boring.**

 **Let me know what you guys are looking forward to seeing from this story in the future! I still have a wild ride planned :)**

 **Addie**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hello my lovely readers! Long time, no see. It's been a few months. How's the family?**

 **I started this story mainly out of frustration, because it struck me that while the story of Harry's parents is undeniably a tragic one, it was also pretty close to turning itself around. If only a couple of key characters made slightly different decisions, the outcome would have been completely different. What would have happened if all of these characters were allowed to reach their full potential? How would they each handle things differently, when given more opportunities?**

 **As always, love to you all x**

 **Addie**

* * *

Except for the occasional gurgle of a potion in its cauldron, the dungeons were as silent as the grave, and Severus Snape was grateful for it. He didn't much care for his coworkers, or feel any particular warmth towards his students, so any time spent alone, while perhaps boring, was better than time spent in the presence of others.

It was a barely-kept secret that he didn't want to be a teacher. There were too many rules that he had no interest in enforcing. Too many children broke the arbitrary rules, and he would have to pretend like he cared.

Everything was a group activity, and he loathed activities _and_ groups.

The point being that any solitude was a blessing. When it was just him in his pantry, arranging the ingredients according to their place on the alchemical table, that's when he felt most at peace. It didn't hurt that everything was coming up roses for Severus — Albus was running around the castle in a whirlwind, putting out fires left and right, and it was positively delicious to see him tossed back on his heels. The Dark Lord was dead and gone, a crispy pile of bones in Lily's sitting room, and the Death Eaters were so scrambled they couldn't be bothered with him. And Lily was finally safe. Really, he couldn't ask for more, or for it to be tied in a neater bow.

From the smoke turning from dark grey to purple, he knew it was time to stir the golden cauldron in the corner (though there wasn't much to stir, as it held less than a quarter liter). So, he grabbed the glass stirring rod and crossed the room.

"Wotcher, Sev."

He whirled on the spot, jumping like a startled animal, and his gaze landed on Lily, leaning in the doorway.

"Fucking hell," he swore, as he immediately dropped the glass stirring rod, and the crystal shattered into a million pieces, "Scare me half to death, while you're at it."

"Sorry," she shrugged, and made her way into the room, "You don't get many visitors down here, do you?"

"What gave it away, the damp black lake smell, or the dungeons location?"

"The general lack of inhabitants, more like," Lily waved her wand and repaired the stirring rod, "Besides, this is a school, so not much outside traffic, probably."

"Which begs the question—" Severus took the stirring rod from her outstretched hand, and turned around to stir the potion, for it was now sputtering temperamentally, "—how did you get in here? Albus didn't invite you."

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't need to know I'm here," she shrugged again, taking off her coat and sitting down on one of the stools, "But Aberforth is always up for a bit of sneakiness."

"I assume you need something from me."

Lily sighed, and she bit her lip, but she didn't deny it. "I need your help with a potion. It has to be top secret. You seriously can't tell anyone."

"No one's a better secret keeper than a man with no one to tell," he smirked, and sat back down at his desk, "I'm listening."

Lily pulled a scroll of parchment from her sleeve, and offered it to him. When he unrolled it, he realized it was a handwritten recipe for a potion copied from a book. At first glance, it was a relatively standard infusion, meant to be taken in a short series of doses, for systemic results, like skelegro.

"This doesn't seem like anything you can't handle yourself, what with your medical training," he looked up from the parchment to find a very apprehensive Lily watching his reaction intently, "Why do you need me?"

"If I go out and purchase ingredients this rare, people will start asking questions. You make obscure potions all the time, so no one will bat an eye at you using any of that," she shifted in her seat, "Besides, it's for Remus, and I need it to be perfect."

"What is it?"

"It's an, er, unreleased potion that neutralizes the neuropsychological effects of lycanthropic transformation, when taken once daily for seven days before the full moon," Lily watched him warily for an objection, but saw none, so she continued, "It keeps Remus, well, himself, even when he's transformed. He would be in control."

Snape dropped the parchment as if it were suddenly scalding, "That type of technology, it simply doesn't exist. If it did, it would be huge news. There's nothing even close to treatment for lycanthropy right now—"

"Which is why no one can know what you're up to, yeah?" Lily tapped the parchment in front of him for emphasis, but seemed to regret her bluntness and said more softly, "Look, when it comes down to it, you have two great talents: keeping secrets and making potions. And this involves both."

"Speaking of two great talents, what do Potter and Black think?" Snape grinned conspiratorially.

"Whatever I tell them to think, if they know what's good for them," she nearly growled, and it was very clear who was in charge of the bunch, "James is trying, he really is, but with Sirius it's not as simple."

"And what do I get in return?"

"My radiant presence."

"Hilarious."

"What do you want?"

"For brewing an untested potion in time for this month's full moon, in complete secrecy?" Snape studied her carefully, gauging what he could ask of her, "I want to be included. In whatever you lot are plotting."

* * *

The fire burned low in the hearth at Potter Manor.

Sirius sat in front of it, watching it reduce to embers, unable to motivate himself to feed it with fresh wood, yet unable to stop staring into the blaze. His day had been long, he couldn't bring himself to be pleased about any of it, and the tumbler of firewhiskey in his hand was more comforting than he'd like to admit.

Lily and James went to bed hours ago, not long after Harry, too exhausted to make coherent conversation any longer. Remus was still entrenched in the library, as though someone in one of those books must have dealt with this exact situation before and would have laid out clear instructions for them, if they only bothered to look. Hermione disappeared earlier, silently heading to bed, a haunted look on her face that said she was dreading what the insides of her eyelids had in store for her.

He and James spent the entire day discussing strategy for when he assumed his place as Head of the House of Black. And they would be making it official. Starting in the morning, he would be playing the game. Which wasn't something he ever imagined allowing to happen. He had spent most of his adult life rejecting the game, only to run back to it full tilt, and the irony wasn't lost. But once he signed on the dotted line, he would be doing the opposite. He would be Sirius Black, more than he had ever been before, as Head. Not Sirius Potter, as he often wished he was during adolescence, not Sirius Black*, with an asterisk, because there were conditions, but Sirius Black, unconditionally.

It already felt like a life sentence.

It would be worth it, though. With him as the Head, the gravy train would stop for all his relatives. There would be no more allowances, no more inheritances, no more dowries paid out from the Black estate. The Malfoys would no longer benefit from Narcissa's monthly allowance. The Lestranges would no longer benefit from Bellatrix's. Any death eater funding would be immediately and abruptly cut off.

The hours he spent railing to his friends about how he didn't want to be the heir, about fuck what his parents wanted, about making something of himself without the Black name, seemed silly now. The years he had spent distancing himself from his childhood seemed pointless, since he only managed to delay the inevitable. The beatings he took when he wasn't the perfect heir felt all for naught, because here he was, in the exact position his parents always intended. He would be wearing the crown. Which made him wish, on a juvenile level, that he had no head on his shoulders at all.

A creak of a floorboard down the hall alerted him to company, and his eyes flashed to the doorway, only to find the newest member of their group clad in a pair of flannel pajamas.

"Oh. Hi. I didn't know you were still awake." Hermione said awkwardly, tracking her way into the sitting room, "I just came downstairs for water."

"Want something stronger?" Sirius jerked his head toward the open bottle of firewhiskey, "Actually, do you even drink?"

"Erm, no. Well, yes. But no. I'm alright," she shoved her plait to one side, "I just couldn't sleep."

"More nightmares?"

"What else?" she said with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"Reckon talking about it would help?"

She shrugged, the knot holding her hair up bobbing comically.

"Wanna...tell me about it?" he took another sip of his drink, "I'm all ears - they may be drunk ears, but they'll still listen."

"It was Halloween night again." Hermione looked down at her lap, "You know, the big fight."

Sirius eyed her over his glass, and evidently decided he needed to be drunker for this conversation, refilling the tumbler with amber liquid, "Were you scared?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Not of Voldemort. But thinking about it now, it's scary how good it felt," she licked her lips, her eyes reflecting the flames, "When I'm like that, in that mood, everything around me seems...dreamlike, or just really far away."

"So you're like...high on your own supply?"

"I suppose you could say that."

He watched her for a moment, then sat on the sofa next to her and went back to his firewhiskey, and soon they were both just staring at the flames.

"I'm going to make a deal in the morning," he volunteered, swirling his drink, "and become the Head of the House of Black."

"I would say congratulations," she watched him from the other end of the sofa, "but the Sirius I knew would not have viewed that as an achievement."

"This Sirius doesn't either; hence, the booze and sleep deprivation," he shrugged, though it was clear from the tension in his posture he couldn't be truly nonchalant, "People will be upset. Angry, even."

"About the deal, or about you becoming Head?"

"Both, if I'm truly lucky."

"Why?"

"Oh, kitten, why _not?_ " Sirius barked out a bitter laugh in return, "They'll be mad I'm the one doing it, mad I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere, mad because I'm taking something that wasn't theirs to begin with, mad they lost the bloody war, it doesn't really matter."

"But you aren't just doing it to make them angry."

"I'm making the deal because it's what Dorea Potter would have done," he admitted, the reflection of the fire dancing in his eyes, "I couldn't amass my wealth like some ridiculously stingy pirate, without acknowledging that some of it isn't mine."

Hermione gave him an odd look, head tilted, "You're going to make a very strange aristocrat."

"I take that as a compliment."

Silence took over the room once more. Only the occasional crackle in the hearth could be heard, and the clink of ice in the glass. The slow burn of the tinder was engrossing. So much so, that Sirius almost didn't notice Remus come in from the library, with an upsettingly high stack of volumes, obviously looking for a spot to examine them at a painstaking pace in excruciating detail.

"Are we all insomniacs?" Remus asked incredulously, moving the bottle of firewhiskey off the coffee table, and putting his books down instead.

"Sleeping is for the weak," Sirius proclaimed, "I've decided I don't need it anymore."

"I'm still holding out hope," Hermione yawned, and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Did you know the Tingby has read at least half of the entire Potter library?" Remus carded his fingers through his hair, "He felt like these were a 'good start.'"

"That's ironic, since that many paper cuts would _finish_ me," said Sirius, to little reaction from the crowd.

"A good start on what?" Hermione asked politely, never one to turn down an interesting read.

"You, of course! Well, your _sparky_ little problem, actually," answered Remus, giving her a crooked smile, "I figured we might as well research the most powerful witches and wizards in history first, and see if anyone had similar trouble with their magic, then go from there."

"Was anyone else dripping blue sparks, or conjuring a thousand canaries at a time?"

Remus frowned slightly, "The canary thing is only you. But! It's actually good you're up, because you can look at this..."

He opened the top book in the stack, entitled _Prolific Witches and Wizards of the Nineteenth Century_ , rifled through its pages, and settled on an entry featuring a skeletal figure. A monk, sitting cross-legged on the ground, with his skin completely coated in white ash. He was almost completely naked, except for a pair of shorts and an amulet around his neck. Behind him, a fire burned.

 _An aghori sannyasi attends his own funeral, as he prepares for the final stage in his spiritual enlightenment._

Hermione looked up from the page, confused, "I don't understand."

"See that amulet around his neck?" Remus pointed to the monk in the photo excitedly, "That is called a Siphon, and it just might be exactly what you need."

She motioned for him to continue, and Remus scooted his chair forward to face her directly. Even Sirius' interest was piqued, and he leaned in, too, his firewhiskey abandoned on the mantle.

"If I'm understanding this correctly, you suppressed your magic for your teenage years, and it was let loose when you were, um, tortured, meaning you have been able to perform great displays of magic," Remus summarized, with a nervous gulp, "but it's also quite unstable, in that your smaller spells are now far overpowered, and your abilities tend to ebb and flow with your emotional state. A siphon would absorb the extra power, releasing it when you need it, and hold it back when you don't. Essentially, it balances out your magic, which is what it indirectly does when a monk uses it for tranquility."

Hermione could only stare at Remus, completely unsure of what to say next. Could the solution to her problems with her magic be as simple as wearing a necklace? It seemed too good to be true.

Luckily, Sirius filled the silence.

He dropped himself onto the sofa beside Hermione, sloshing firewhiskey onto his shirt. "So you're saying that after cracking a few books, you and Tingby solved the mystery, and it turns out all she needs is some new jewelry?"

"Yes," Remus replied, slightly annoyed at Sirius' dismissal of his work, "but I would consider that a gross oversimplific—"

"Well, how hard can it be to get her a necklace like that?" Sirius had begun to slur his words, abandoning his drink on the side table, "We just find her a nice necklace, and do a bit of jiggery-pokery, and boom, problem solved!"

"Considering only one wizard in Britain can make a necklace with the properties required, and the bloke hasn't been seen for almost a century...?" Remus said, on a major streak of sarcasm, pretending to do a few calculations in midair, "I'd say it'll be quite difficult, Padfoot."

"That's fucking typical," Sirius propped his slippered feet on the coffee table with a huff.

"Who is he?" Hermione asked.

"An alchemist called Nicholas Flamel."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"I'm not joking?" Remus looked at her quizzically.

"Sirius is right, then," Hermione put the book down, "This is fucking typical."

* * *

Gringotts is always busiest on Monday mornings. No matter how early you get there, you never beat the rush, and however long you think the line will be, it will almost certainly be longer. Many arguments have been made for increasing the number of goblins working on Mondays, but the goblins carved seven teller desks out of marble when they founded the bank, and seven tellers they will always have.

So, when James Potter stepped into the bank accompanied by Sirius Freaking Black in all his pureblood finery on Monday morning, you can also count on it being a spectacle.

James was wearing a normal set of formal robes with his usual glasses and disheveled hair, his wand tucked behind his ear, but at nearly six feet tall, he cut a decently imposing figure. While he was standing next to Sirius, he could have been in a hot pink ball gown for all anyone knew or cared. Because Sirius had taken a very different tack. He wore a set of charcoal robes made of perfectly tailored wool, with roses of black silk thread embroidered on the sleeves so seamlessly, they looked to be tattooed on his body. His hair was pulled into a neat knot, and tied with a cord of black leather. Highly polished silver rings dripped from his fingers, while a simple silver chain adorned his neck, and silver decorated both his ears. His fingernails were painted black. Later, some witnesses would swear he had been wearing mascara.

He strolled into Gringotts at the busiest time of the week, and stood in the queue like every other customer, but a hush fell over the room, as people's conversations slowly fizzled out, in favor of watching what he would do next. He spoke to no one except a few murmured remarks to James. And, because this was the rebel son of one of the most famous political families in Wizarding Britain, certainly no one spoke directly to him.

No one except for Kraggus.

"Black!" the goblin with a monocle barked abruptly.

James elbowed Sirius, who stepped forward to greet their teller with the laidback disposition of a powerful person, "Kraggus! Gus! You old chap, you good sport, you—"

"Eh, shut up," the goblin growled, though a lopsided smile of amusement appeared on his face, as only Sirius Black was capable of amusing a goblin, "and state your business."

"I'm here on official Black family business," he said confidently, as any other bank activities screeched to a halt at his words, and placed his wand before Kraggus with a wink.

"Of course, Mr. Black," Kraggus weighed the wand in his hands, verifying its authenticity, before hopping off his stool to lead Sirius and James into a private room, "right this way."

As a trio, they walked behind the desk and out of the lobby of Gringotts, down a hidden staircase behind a pillar, and down a long corridor, leading to a door marked Estate Office, and through a second door marked Prothonotary.

"Oh, my god," James whispered, now that they were away from prying eyes, "I think one lady nearly fainted."

"Maybe the mascara was too much," Sirius whispered back, "I thought it would add to the look."

"Worth it," James breathed.

"Now! Down to business," Kraggus bared his teeth in a menacing grin, taking a seat behind a small desk, "I assume you want to claim the vault, and the title, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Sirius answered, sitting down at the desk opposite him, "but I want to do more than that if possible."

"Of course you do," the goblin purred, folding his hands on the desk in front of him, "Consider me intrigued."

"I want to reclaim the Black assets, or at the very least freeze them."

Kraggus' black eyes glittered, "Oh?"

"So none of my relatives can get them."

"Ah."

Sirius nodded, and he ripped off most of his rings, handing them to James in a small pile, "Simply put, the House of Black has invested a lot of gold in a lot of different places, and I want to pull my investments."

The goblin regarded him curiously, shaking his head slightly at Sirius' antics. No doubt speculating on the strategic implications of a move like this. But Sirius preferred to believe he was just amazed at his luck to be handling this case. Kraggus went to the bookshelves lining the room, many of which were collapsing under the sheer weight of the books upon their shelves. They were massive, and ancient-looking, and had Gobbledegook on the bindings. They probably held all the secrets of the pureblood bourgeoisie.

"First—" Kraggus heaved a large volume from the shelf behind him, bound in black leather, and dropped it onto the desktop, "—you'll need legitimacy. Now, it's my understanding that your parents recognized your brother as heir at the time of their deaths..."

"But, Regulus is dead," Sirius cut in, having turned a strange shade of parchment.

"...but, lucky for you, the rich are also lazy," he licked a taloned finger and turned the page, "and your parents didn't formally make the change. Saves us an arseload of paperwork. Sign there."

The goblin pointed at an empty space at the bottom of the page in the book, and handed Sirius a quill. In black ink, Sirius signed the book, and Kraggus helpfully blew on the signature. He slammed the book closed, and placed it back on the shelf.

Sirius and James looked at each other, then back at Kraggus, and Sirius asked, "Is that it?"

Very few wizards can claim to have heard a goblin laugh, but that's what Kraggus did. It was more of a series of wheezes and hacks, but it was definitely a laugh. "Congratulations, you're now Head of the Black family. We have about seventeen other books to sign before we do anything else."

Sirius took off the rest of his rings and handed them solemnly to James. It was going to be a long morning.

Seventeen book signings later, and Sirius was feeling lightheaded.

Sirius had so much money now that his money made money. His fortunes grew even as he stood, doing nothing. He had more money than he could possibly spend. It was unethical. It was gross. And it made him sick.

So the money would be going to as many places as possible to fix Wizarding Britain's problems. He would be donating to St. Mungo's, to help the ailing and the sick. He would be looking into creating shelters to address the homeless werewolf population. And what he couldn't fix with just ridiculous quantities of money, perhaps he would fix politically. It would be a long process, but it would be worth it.

The Black family fortune consisted of several properties scattered across France, a significant cache in the Black Family vault, numerous holdings across many of the older Wizarding families of Britain, in the form of trophies or dowries or inheritances, and a few shell foundations. There were also shadow accounts for untraceable transactions (though Kraggus admitted goblins tended to make notes of any shady routing numbers), and smaller accounts that were also under Black dominion.

"I brought James with me today not just because of his nice arse," Sirius began, after the last book had been reshelved, "He's also Dorea Potter's son."

Kraggus surveyed James, who was still standing off to the side, looking stunned despite having been in on the plan from the start, and holding Sirius' discarded pile of rings, "She was a great activist for Goblin rights. You were raised well."

"We know that reclamation of the Black fortune is going to be tough, and we'd need your best lawyers to help," James spoke up, shoving rings in his pockets, "so in return, we thought we would do something to honor her fight, and return any artifacts the Black family kept from the Goblin Nation."

Pure shock showed on the goblin's face, and he looked between the two young men in disbelief, "Don't say anything that you won't follow through on."

When Wizarding families first colonized Britain, they ignored a great deal of long-held Goblin claims, traditions, and culture. They exchanged their own inventions, wands, for Goblin-made treasures, but it was a lopsided exchange, not only because Goblin-made artifacts are far more valuable than the more common wand, but it was soon made illegal for Goblins to carry wands at all. Goblins have sold wizards their work, but on the agreement that it be returned upon the death of the person who made the deal, not passed down through generations. It is uncommon for any Goblin pieces to be returned, much less scores of them.

"The concept is radical, but also relatively simple," James said gently, "since we require your help in weakening the bad actors the Black family have long funded, it's only right for you to keep what was yours to begin with."

"I...don't know what to say," Kraggus replied slowly, "you realize that would cut into your fortune considerably?"

"It's not my fortune if it was stolen," Sirius cut in, looking down at his feet, "and Dorea is worth it. She always taught us to treat other magical ethnicities with respect, so that's what we're going to do. We're going to take down anyone associated with supremacy, but we're also going to be ethical about it."

"You understand I will have to speak to our President about this?"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," James smiled, "And we've got all day."

Really, all they needed was a quick ice cream break, and they had an answer.

Sirius was still finishing his Chocolate Chili cone when Gringott himself walked into the room.

The President of the Goblin Nation was the same hip height as Kraggus, with the same black eyes and long fingernails, but he wore an expensive three piece suit, instead of something comparable to Kraggus' more common suit, and his skin was more of a blue-grey than a tan-grey like the other goblin. He didn't seem as amiable as Kraggus, opting instead for a more impassive demeanor.

Both James and Sirius stood as he entered the room, though Sirius took one last lick before wandlessly vanishing his ice cream cone.

"I hear you two have cooked up quite the proposition." Gringott remarked in a low, gravelly voice.

"Yes, sir," Sirius answered, a chill going down his spine when he made eye contact with the Goblin Nation President. And it wasn't from the ice cream he had been eating.

"The value returned to the Goblin Nation with all of the goblin-made Black family heirlooms would be unprecedented," the President continued, sizing Sirius and James up, "and we will happily provide whatever legal assistance you shall need to gain access to them in exchange. There will certainly be many agreements you'll need to break."

"But they will not be any agreements I made," Sirius answered firmly, "Only pacts made between dark wizards, in rooms I was not in, during conversations I did not have."

Gringott turned suddenly to Kraggus, a pinched (amused?) expression on his face, "He is funny. You did not tell me he was funny."

Kraggus smiled, another odd toothy grin, "Mr. Black's sense of humor is sharp as a tack."

Sirius looked to James for confirmation, and then back to Gringott and Kraggus, "Glad to subvert expectations when I can."

James stepped forward and pulled one of many rings Sirius had discarded from his pocket. It was a chunky silver ring with a large black stone in its setting, but it also happened to be a goblin-made Black family heirloom. "Mr. President, to show our commitment to this agreement, this is the only piece we could find without going to Grimmauld Place or into the vault. I hope it can be a token of our respect for the goblin community."

Gringott accepted the ring, and held it up to the light for both him and Kraggus to see, astonishment written on both their faces. They murmured between themselves for a moment, turning the ring in the light and examining it closely. Of course, it was an exquisite piece of jewelry, and for many pureblood witches and wizards, that was all that mattered. But these things are difficult to singularly admire once their fraught history is known. A piece of art cannot be enjoyed in a vacuum. By returning it to goblin hands, perhaps an ancient wrong was being righted.

"Boy," Gringott growled, looking up from the ring, "you might be just what we've been waiting for."

Sirius hoped to lead the Ancient House he so despised by turning over a new leaf, but he couldn't, wouldn't, do that without acknowledging the past atrocities his family had committed.

He could not lead in a vacuum.

He would lead with his heart.

* * *

 **A couple things about this chapter. I thought for a long time about which characters I wanted to focus upon for this one, and I chose Sirius and Severus.**

 **For Sirius, I wanted to explore what he would look like if he were handed the keys to the castle, having grown up inside of it. Would he choose to demolish it, or renovate it to his modern beliefs? It's a little bit of both. He now has leverage over his Death Eater relatives, and it would be short-sighted of him to give that up. But also, he needed to acknowledge the corruption of the Black family fortune to take over in good conscience. All the kids fighting in the Order are radically ahead of their time. I wanted to combine his ethics with his pragmatism.**

 **Severus is more complicated. Mere months ago, as a result of Lily being threatened, he saw that while he personally benefited from the Death Eaters movement, it would be at the expense of people less protected than himself. So he's just starting to see how he was disillusioned by the promises of Voldemort. At the same time, getting so close to losing Lily made him appreciate the consequences of his actions. He wants to help, to absolve himself and curb the guilt. He will still have to reckon with his friends that he made along the way.**

 **Next chapter, I'm hoping to focus on Lily, and on Hermione.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


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